


The Wind of an Old Mistake

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/F, M/M, NFA WEE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mistake from Gibbs' past comes back to haunt him.  It brings with it the wind of change for the whole team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lawral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawral/gifts).



**Our lives are like a candle in the wind.**   
**Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967) US "poet, biographer"**

Gibbs sat at his desk, filling out the paperwork again. He pushed his reading glasses up on his nose and gazed around at his team. His gut was rolling, and it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning. He looked down at his paperwork again, working for another few minutes, then looked up at a familiar 'swishing' sound. 

"DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, gazing over the top of his dammed reading glasses to peer at his second in command. "If you don't have enough to do, Tony, I can find more work for you to do..." He was about to continue the threat when the phone on his desk rang. "Gibbs," he barked into the phone with his usual annoyance. 

"Hello, Leroy." The voice sounded extremely familiar, and he signaled to McGee to record the call and trace it. It only took a couple pushes of buttons on the younger agent's computer and Tim nodded over at him. _Got it._ McGee gestured to the space between them, and Gibbs gave a quick, terse nod. With a couple more keystrokes, the sound of the call came through each team member's speakers. He nodded his thanks, and then leaned back into the seat, determined to draw out the call long enough to get information.

"Hello. Somethin' I can help you with?" He softened his voice a little, trying not to be as much of a bastard as he knew he could be. 

"No, Leroy," Gibbs grimaced. He only allowed one man to call him by his given name, and this certainly wasn't his father. The exes didn't count. "I think I can definitely help you, however. I can help you get rid of the dead weight surrounding you. The frat boy, the geek, the assassin -- really? This is the kind of help you keep around these days?" The voice rose, mocking him. 

He started to make notes on a yellow legal pad, free associating. _Former agent? 'These days.' My team._ He underscored that last sentence several times as his ire continued to build. "If you know so much about me, mister, you know how well I react to threats against my team." 

"I'm counting on it, _Leroy_ ," the man on the other end of the line continued. "I'm hoping to teach you a lesson about what it's like to lose it all. And I'm not talking about the pain of losing your family. You've experienced that. Which makes this a little harder. I'm talking about losing the trust of your coworkers. They've become your little family now, haven't they? What would you do if they didn't -- if they _couldn't_ \-- trust you anymore, hmmm?" 

Gibbs scanned around to the named members of his team. Ziva sat listening to the call while her fingers seemed to stretch toward the wrist holster on her other hand, itching to remove the blade and bury it into the man just for suggesting such a thing. Tim was pounding away, probably making his own set of notes, mouth set in a thin line, visibly upset, but moving as best he could to find whatever information he could find from the wording or timbre of the threat. Tony sat tapping his fancy black ballpoint pen against his own thick yellow legal pad, pausing every few seconds in his self-contained symphony to write something down or look for something on his computer, pecking away with two fingers. "Not sure I could tell ya. It's never happened yet. What should I call ya?" He waited, holding his breath as silence fell on the line. 

"Gone." Then, before Gibbs could say another word, there was a telltale click, and the man was gone. 

"McGee!" Gibbs barked and tore off the sheet of his own notes, prepared to write more notes from what the younger man had to say. 

"Boss, you won't believe this. If I'm understanding this right, he called from a burn phone in Rock Creek Park. In fact, from one of the more thickly wooded parts. I'm not sure how he got a signal on a cheap phone there. There are only two carriers who can reach that area, and none of the pay-as-you-go services can. Which means he had to jailbreak a phone, and hack into the tower there, somehow. Or used a pre-purchased black-ops style phone." 

"The thickest area. Is that not where we end up most of the time looking at body dumps, Gibbs?" His female agent spoke up, moving to put the map of the park on the plasma. "Right in this area. Should we head out that direction and see if we can see him? It definitely sounded male." 

"Sounded male, and sounded familiar. Like I know him." Gibbs frowned, then shook his head. "Not going anywhere. Gut says that's what he wants us to do. If he's usin' black burn phones, he's gone. Too good at tradecraft." 

"He knew how to push your buttons, too, Boss," DiNozzo observed flatly. "He had to know enough about you. I mean, even his form of address..." His senior agent trailed off, clearly shaken by the threat. 

"Yeah, got that, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. "Goin'..." He started to stand, but sat back down at the incredulous stares from the rest of his team. "Right. McGee!" He waited to hear what the man thought he could do to move the case forward. 

"Emailing a copy of the phone call down to Abby for analysis. I'd do it myself, but she's so much better at the audio stuff. Which doesn't make a lot of sense considering the decibel level of the music she listens to..." Gibbs just glared at him, and he stopped mid-sentence. 

"DiNozzo!"

"Calling around to see if there was a LEO presence in the park near enough to make a difference, or if there's something we do need to investigate out there. Also, setting up a detail for you. Boss, you can complain all you want, but he called you. Addressed you. If you go off the reservation again, you might not make it back this time." Tony gazed pointedly at him, daring him to contradict his decisions. He was doing the job of a Senior Field Agent, and doing it damn well. The detail would chafe, but DiNozzo had a point. He glared for a long moment, telegraphing his frustration with the situation and Tony's insistence, then nodded. 

"David!" He turned toward Ziva's desk. 

"I am calling my contacts to find out more about these black-ops phones, and who might be using them that should not, Gibbs. I do not know what else I can do. The others seem to have that covered. However, should you find this man, I should like to help you interrogate him." She had picked up one of her small blades, and was cleaning her fingernails with it, probably more for something to do than for any real reason otherwise. 

"Good. I probably oughtta fill Vance in." There was a general sound of agreement from his team, and he stood up, eager to step away from the bullpen for a few minutes, even if it meant heading up to see the Director. 

 

****

* * *

**Good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment.**   
**Fred Brooks (American scientist, 1931-)**

Gibbs sat back down in his seat, running a hand through his hair. His talk with Vance had gone pretty much exactly as he had expected, except that Vance had complimented DiNozzo (out of the SFA's hearing, of course) on his willingness to stand up to the bastard that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "Your boy shows promise," he said, and then immediately grimaced a little as though it was painful to admit. 

The Supervisory Agent had agreed, though with more of a twinkle in his eye and a little bit of nonverbal ribbing. Now, he sat in his seat, reconciling himself to dealing with 'his boy's' antics. Jethro knew that Tony was a bulldog when he needed to be and right now, he really needed to be. He sighed, looking wistfully toward the elevator. This was the longest he'd gone without coffee since that last stakeout. And even then, he'd had more in his system by this point. 

"Here you go, Agent Gibbs. Dark Roast coffee. Ellen ..." Gibbs looked up to see the newest agent to work with them stopping to drop off an extremely large mug of coffee. If he pegged it right, it was one of Elaine's soup cups. He snorted. Dorneget backpedaled a little and corrected himself. "Um, I mean, Elaine, Agent Gibbs. That's right. Elaine told me that if you needed more, we can arrange it. She also said something about..." He paused, and winced, and Gibbs shook his head.

"Just spit it out, Dorneget. Not gonna shoot the messenger." Even though he thought about it sometimes.

"She said, and I quote, so don't hold this against..." The green agent stopped his qualification at Gibbs' glare. "Right. She said, 'Tell that man not to do anything foolish, or I'll come up there myself.' Agent Gibbs, she, uh, looked like she really meant it." 

Gibbs couldn't prevent the smile from breaking out across his face. "Good work, Dorneget. What'cha supposed to be workin' on now?" He picked up the large cup with both hands, drawing it toward himself with a grateful sigh.

"We're between cases, so Maris said I could do your coffee run for you. So, when you're out, just send one of your team over to tell me, and uh, send the mug, and I'll get it refilled. She did say she wanted it back when this was all over." 

Gibbs grunted, taking a long, slow sip of the hot liquid, and Dorneget decided that was his cue to leave. He sat there thinking, just sipping at his coffee for a few minutes, then set his cup down as he heard the elevator open and the clomp of familiar boots stepped toward him. "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs," his favorite scientist gushed, stopping right in front of his desk, looking askance at his large -- bowl of coffee. 

"Hey, Abbs, whatcha got?" He directed her attention back to him before she could get too invested in his cup. 

"Gibbs, Luca is graduating this week. I'm so excited!" Abby grinned and bounced up and down.

"Yeah? You flyin' out to attend the ceremony?" He looked up at her, and as her expression tightened, his gut churned again. 

"Um, no, Gibbs. I thought I'd take Giada and drive out there. The last time I flew..." Gibbs remembered. He'd gotten a call from airport security about Abby's metal. The TSA agent had wanted proof that she really did work for a federal agency. Gibbs could understand the guy's disbelief, but it didn't stop him from tearing the man a new one. 

"Somethin's goin' on, Abbs. Don't feel safe letting you outta my sight alone. I've got a detail on me, and the kids are probably gonna be bunking here more often than not..." 

Abby stepped around the desk, deftly avoiding moving or spilling anything, and slugged him in the arm. 

"Ouch, Abbs! What's that for?" He looked up, honestly confused.

"This isn't another big huge hairy mess like the cartel thing, is it, Gibbs? Because, I mean. Macy and Jack, and your house and ... Mike's thumb...That was hinky, Gibbs! It's not something like that, is it?" 

"Don't know, Abbs. I don't think so..." Gibbs looked up at her, lips pursed in a thin line. "I'd feel better if you had someone on your six." He looked around the bullpen. "David! Front and center." 

"Yes, Gibbs?" Ziva stood up, almost saluting in her haste to respond to his 'Gunny' voice. 

"On cold cases until we get this..." He waved his hand in the general direction of the center of their bullpen space, annoyed, "goat rope squared away. Abbs needs a travel buddy..." He watched the two women's faces to gauge their reactions to his meddling. Abby looked surprised, then pleased. Ziva considerd the idea, smirked slightly, then pursed her lips, nodding once. _Good._ He nodded in return. "Good. Get with Abbs to figure out plans. And, David?" 

"Yes, Gibbs," Ziva turned from where she was already gathering her gear to leave. 

"Don't drive like a maniac." 

With an ironic snort, his newest agent followed Abby out of the bullpen to get ready to go, Tony's catcalls and McGee's quiet wave sending them off. 

 

****

* * *

 **Any man whose errors take ten years to correct is quite a man.**  
 **J. Robert Oppenheimer US administrator & astrophysicist (1904 - 1967), speaking of Albert Einstein**

Gibbs trudged into his house, exhaustion seeping into every cell. He'd sat and pored over cold cases for hours, only pausing to mediate between his two remaining agents when they got bored, needed clarification, or just felt like bothering each other. In other words, most of the afternoon. He moved to sit down in the couch, but before he could think about planting his ass down, he blinked, pushed the exhaustion down again, and pulled out his cell, dialing Leon's number. 

"Leon. Hate to bother ya so late, but I've got a situation." He could hear the weariness in his own voice, and ran his hand over his face. 

"It's no problem, Gibbs, I was just leaving the Yard myself. I'll turn around. What's up?" 

Gibbs forced himself to keep calm about the situation, and put his 'detached federal agent' hat back on. "Someone's been in my house, Leon. Left sticky notes everywhere. I looked at a couple, and whoever it is knows some serious shit about me. Secrets. Nothing I've seen so far would compromise anything current, but you might want to keep it to agents with the right clearance." 

He could pretty much envision the expression on the director's face. He was sure the man had that 'are you sure' look that sometimes made Gibbs think the man didn't believe a word he'd said. He'd come to learn it was how he looked while processing, but it still irked him, though irrationally. After a long pause, he replied. "Alright, Gibbs, I'll get a team over there. You have a go bag?" 

"Always." He snorted at the thought that Leon thought otherwise, but the man clarified why he asked. 

"Just checking, Gibbs -- don't you teach your agents something like that?" 

Gibbs grinned, accepting the teasing for what it was; Leon was trying to take his mind off the situation. "Trust but verify. Don't assume; always double check." He added a jibe of his own. "Very good, Leon, you'd make a good federal agent or something."

Leon's bark of surprised laughter made Gibbs' grin widen. "Alright, then. Go ahead and call DiNozzo, ask him if you can rack on his couch for the night." 

"Will do. You keepin' my team outta this?" He had already explained his reasoning for sending Ziva with their forensic scientist earlier.

"Yeah, probably so. At least the legwork. With one agent gone and another the target, I think that's the smartest thing to do. I might assign you boys to do some work inside the Yard, but I really want to keep all of you close until this thing blows over. Damn inconvenient timing for the kid to graduate." 

"You're tellin' me. Alright. I'll let you know if anything comes up, and I wouldn't mind if you did the same. At least as concerns me and my team." 

"Duly noted, Gibbs. Goodnight. Sleep well, if you can."

"Will do." He punched the 'hang up' button and held down the speed-dial for his senior agent. "DiNozzo." 

"Hey, Boss, we got a case?" Gibbs heard the lassitude in Tony's voice, and smiled, grateful that the other man wasn't there to see his expression. 

"Not exactly. Listen. You mind if I rack out on your couch tonight?" He heard a sharp intake of breath, and continued. "If you've got plans, I can call McGee..." 

Tony interrupted him. "No, Boss, that's not it. Uh, yeah, sure. What's up?" 

"Can I tell you when I get there?" He glanced around one last time, reading a few more of the sticky notes -- and immediately regretting doing so -- and stepped out the door, heading for the Challenger. 

"Sure thing. Whatever you need, Boss, I got your six." Tony replied, easily. 

Gibbs closed his eyes, relishing the commitment his second had to him, and then lowered himself into the car, zipping toward the Tony's apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.**   
**e. e. cummings**

Tony sat on the couch, looking down at his phone. He barely noticed the strains of the movie in the background. _Weird._ He shook his head. _Bossman sounded ... scared. What could scare Gibbs?_ He frowned and stood up, taking in the state of his apartment. Gibbs would be there in a few moments. He straightened a few things, put his dishes up, and sat back down, trying to piece together what might have set his boss off like that. 

He shook his head again, a little more briskly, trying to clear the cobwebs, and sighed. He shut the movie off and pulled out his phone to play Tetris for the few minutes it would take for the boss to get there. After losing spectacularly, he shut the phone again and stood. He'd meet Gibbs at the door. 

It only took another two minutes for him to hear the tread of footsteps up the stairs and the quick 'shave and a haircut' rap on his door. He opened the door, and was about to make a smart remark when he saw his boss' face. "Boss? You alright?" 

In a move that was completely unexpected, Gibbs set his go bag down right there in the entryway and wrapped his arms around Tony in a tight hug. He grunted his response to Tony's question, but it wasn't the ' _well, duh, DiNozzo_ ' grunt but the ' _no, not really_ ' grunt. He stood there, unsure of how to respond to the hug. _Well, other than Tony junior,_ he thought. 

"Come on, Boss. Let's go inside. I'm not averse to you hugging me," he quipped, "but maybe we could cross the threshold and lock the door. Then, you can tell me about what's going on. I haven't seen that look on your face since ..." He wrapped his arms around Gibbs' body for a short, sharp hug, then wriggled himself free. He grabbed Gibbs' bag and pulled him inside. 

"Yeah." Gibbs looked up at him, frowning slightly. He strode over to the couch and sat down. "Bastard went into my house. Those stupid little sticky notes all over..." 

"Sticky notes all over your house? What did they say?" Tony's eyebrows lifted a little, and he frowned in concentration. 

"Didn't read all of 'em. The ones I did read were pretty telling. Things about me, about cases I'd done. One of 'em had Ari's case file number and how long he'd been working as an informant. The one near it hinted that maybe he was using federal resources to track us and set up Kate's kill." He ran a hand over his face, and Tony's gut began to churn. 

"Didn't he say something about how he wanted to get us to stop trusting you? So, probably one of them had the fact that Ziva killed Ari instead of you..." He set the bag down and sat down beside his boss on the couch.

"Didn't tell you that." Gibbs looked surprised, and turned toward him, silently questioning how he knew.

"I'm an investigator, Boss. And, now I know how Ziva reacts when you kill someone close to her." He shrugged. "It was easy enough to put two and two together. I figured you had your reasons in letting everyone believe it was you. I know, had the circumstances been right, it would've been." 

"Damn right," Gibbs replied, then he fell silent again. 

"Hey, Boss, it's up to you..." Tony felt something in him shift, and he sighed. "It's up to you, but if you want, you could bunk with me, instead of out here on the couch. Couch is comfy enough, but I'd kinda like to keep an eye on you..." 

Gibbs' eyes narrowed, and he considered that for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. Kinda wanna keep you close, too." 

Tony's stomach flip-flopped at the words, but he quashed the feeling, leaning back in his seat. "Want a beer?" 

 

****

* * *

 **The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.**  
 **Elbert Hubbard US author (1856 - 1915)**

Gibbs lay awake in the darkness next to Tony, mind awhirl. He had too much on his mind to sleep, and his body was taut with frustration and something else. He'd never let himself think about the possibility of breaking Rule Twelve with DiNozzo, but at the moment, it was definitely a consideration. He gazed over at the other man, taking in his long frame. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair and forced his mind back to the problem at hand.

The voice on the phone had sounded familiar. It wasn't someone he knew, so he couldn't place him right away. It was more like there were hints of familiarity. He sounded _like_ someone he knew. If his memory served, it was a while ago and it was in a dangerous time. That didn't narrow it down any. He sighed gustily, bringing his hand up to slide beneath his head as he lay thinking. His thoughts began to twist in on themselves in repetitive circles and he frowned, slowly pushing each crazy idea aside. He'd have to do some thinking after finding out what all the notes said. Of course, if the guy moved in the right circles, the notes wouldn't give him any clue at all. He groaned softly and Tony stirred. Gibbs ran a hand along Tony's arm, calming him immediately. 

When he'd come over to Tony's, Gibbs thought, he'd been pleasantly surprised at what he'd found. The place wasn't spotless, but it wasn't stacked to heaven with pizza boxes and moldy gym shoes, either. He had enjoyed seeing the little mementos of their lives together. Pictures he hadn't realized (or remembered) Tony had snapped, tickets to a couple games Tony had caught with McGee held down with some sort of weight thing from the vendors, little things like that. He'd had a chance to nose around in the kitchen for a few minutes after supper, and Gibbs had noticed that Tony stocked his favorite coffee and his favorite beer, even though he hadn't been over here at all, except to pick the younger man up for a case or check on him after a rough one. The thought made him pause. 

He lay there for a few more minutes, just watching his agent and friend. He had kept Rule 12 because of the situation between Jenny and himself. They had been young, passionate in fighting and fucking, and it had been an intense time. He wouldn't ever go back to it, knowing what he did, but maybe he'd outgrown the rule. He looked back up at the ceiling, considering the pros and cons of the idea. The hug the other man had given him had been pleasant, comforting, and warm. The offer to share the bed had been a surprise, but a good one. Gibbs wasn't willing to turn it down even for his normal stubbornness' sake. He needed the warmth and comfort Tony provided. Maybe that made him weak, but he would take what he was given. He decided to keep his options open and smiled slightly as he gazed over at the man's sleeping form again. With thoughts of drawing nearer to Tony, Gibbs rolled over and fell asleep. 

 

****

* * *

 **All experience is an arch, to build upon.**  
 **Henry B. Adams (American historian, 1838-1918)**

Abby smiled and turned to Ziva. "So, you're all packed, right?" 

"Yes. I am." Ziva lifted her bag, showing it to Abby, settling it into the back seat of the car. "I can put it back here, yes?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I hope you don't mind, but I figured I'd drive the first leg, get out of town and then in a few hours, you can relieve me." 

"That sounds acceptable, Abby." Ziva secured her bag and closed the door, moving to settle into the front seat. "May I ask you a question?"

Abby laughed. "You just did. But you can definitely ask me another one." 

Ziva chuckled, and Abby bit her lip as she noticed the other woman's eyes light up with humor. "Is this not what Tony and McGee would refer to as a 'Road trip'?"

"Yeah, it's a road trip. But we don't have to do any of the things immature frat boys do when they go road-tripping." Abby grinned. "We'll do a chick road trip. I have some good ideas as to where to stop. Mapquest and Google seemed to agree that it'd be a good idea to spend the night in Memphis tonight, and then head out to Albuquerque for the second day. That's gonna be the long one. Then, we can get to LA late the third night, I think." She sighed. "It'll be good to see Luca again." 

"I completely understand. When I would return from an assignment, it was always a joy to see my loved ones again. I have an Auntie who makes the best matzo balls, and she would watch over Tali after Imma died..." Her voice trailed off, and Abby let her live inside her memories for a while. "That is all in the past, however. I do have one more question. What does our road trip have to do with chickens?" 

"Chicks, Ziva," Abby laughed through her words. "Chicks. Girls. Women." She saw understanding dawn on the agent's face, and picked up her phone. "Before we head out of DC, I need to call Kyle and see if he wants to come." 

"Then it won't be us chickens." Ziva's smile made it plain that she was twisting the words on purpose. And appropriately. 

Abby shook her head again. "No, but Kyle's a really nice guy. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to take that much time away from the shelter. It's a busy time right now, and one of the women is due any minute and so, she's not going to be around for a while after, of course." She pulled her phone out and punched in Kyle's number. "Hey, little bro, can you get free?" 

She heard Kyle's voice through the speaker. "Hey, Abbs. No, actually, Marilee just went into the hospital last night. No news yet on the baby, but that leaves me stuck here. I might be able to get off enough time to fly out for the ceremony and straight back if I can find a flight. I think I can, though." 

Abby nodded, then put her assent to words. "Alright. I wondered if that might be the case. If you need help finding a flight, my friend Tim, you remember Tim? He's the writer." 

"Yeah, I remember Tim." 

"He's pretty good at finding last minute deals. You got his number, right?" Abby had introduced Kyle to the team and they'd exchanged information. 

"No, but I got his email and his Twitter handle. So, I can reach him.." She heard the nonchalance on the line and supposed it was a long shot that he'd be able to go.

"Okay, kiddo. Well, if you aren't able to make it, I'll take a lot of pictures and we'll have lunch together sometime. I'll let you look at them and decide which ones you want to keep." 

"Sounds like a plan. Thank you." She heard the yapping of dogs in the background before Kyle spoke again. "As you can probably hear, I'm up to my ears in puppy love. I'd better get back to it. Have a safe trip and don't get into too much trouble." 

Abby laughed again, cooing a little at the animal sounds she could hear. "It sounds like it. We'll do our best. Goodbye, Kyle." She hung up the phone, setting it on the seat between them, and turned to her friend. "You ready?" 

"I believe so," Ziva replied.

"It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." She pulled out her sunglasses and put them on. 

"Abby, none of those things are true." 

"Just go with me here, okay?" She grinned and clamped her hands on the steering wheel. "It's a movie quote." 

Ziva threw her head back against the headrest and just groaned.


	3. Chapter 3

**A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine.**   
**Anne Bronte**

The sun rose on Saturday morning, waking Tony up as it often did. He hated that his window faced just exactly right for the rising sun to enter his bedroom every morning, but since most mornings the sun either worked as an effective alarm or wasn't up before he left the house, it wasn't something he fretted much over. He sighed, standing to use the head quickly before crawling back into the bed. He went through the motions without conscious thought and it was halfway through his use of the toilet that he remembered the other man in his bed. Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His boss. The man he'd wanted in his bed for years. He leaned forward, careful to keep his angle from getting anything anywhere it didn't need to be, and groaned softly. 

He finished up in the bathroom and padded back toward the bed, looking down at his boss. He had seen Gibbs asleep before; they'd had to spend nights together in shady little roach motels when they went out of town for a case. However the combination of it being _his bed_ , the hug last night, and some vague recollection of dreams and fantasies, Tony DiNozzo started to freak out.

"Pull yourself together. DiNozzos don't freak out," he whispered to himself, inhaling deeply, plucking up what courage he could find, and crawling back into bed. He lay there with his mind spinning in circles for long moments before he rolled over on to his side and tried to sleep. 

When he rolled over, he felt Gibbs' arm lift and rest on his side, stroking gently as though soothing a small child. "Shhh, s'okay." He smiled ruefully at the man's comfort, even during sleep. 

Without a lot of conscious thought, Tony scooted his frame back up against Gibbs' warm body, exhaling a contented sigh when the stroking hand pulled him in even closer.

He tensed for a moment when a random thought struck him: what if Gibbs thought he was one of his redheads?

Gibbs answered his worry when he began stroking his chest, whispering soothing words again. "Shhh, Tony. S'okay. Sleep." He gazed behind him as much as he could without moving his body, but saw no sign that the older man was awake at all. 

With another smile, this one contented, Tony fell back to sleep quickly. 

 

****

* * *

 **Laughing at our mistakes can lengthen our own life. Laughing at someone else's can shorten it.**  
 **Cullen Hightower**

The light streaming through the window woke Gibbs, and he stretched, being careful to disentangle himself from his coworker before he did. He snorted softly at the thought of accidentally whacking DiNozzo in the face, and then shook his head as the younger man stirred. 

"Morning, Boss." As usual, Tony was the first to speak. "Sleep alright?" 

Jethro grunted and sat up, swinging his legs around to stand up. "Head." He strode toward the head, quickly relieving himself before returning back to the bed. He sat down beside Tony and looked over at the man still laying beside him. "Slept fine. How'd you sleep?" He fought the urge to touch the skin Tony did have exposed. He knew the younger man normally slept nude but had kept boxers and a tee on for his benefit. 

"I slept pretty well after I woke up, hit the head and dealt with my freakout," Tony replied, clearly bemused with himself. 

Gibbs quirked a brow at him. "Freakout? Thought DiNozzos didn't do that." 

"Well, I'm rethinking a lot of what DiNozzos might or might not do." Tony snorted, and Jethro let it lie, sensing that was as far as the other man was willing to go on the subject right now. He might push later. 

"Fair enough." He exhaled and shifted to move himself until he lay back against the headboard, sitting up. "Appreciate you letting me crash here." He ran his hand down his face. "What a goat rope." 

"Yeah. That sounds creepy. At first, I thought 'Rear Window' creepy, but then I realized it's more than that." Tony nodded his understanding and agreement.

"Guy knows too much, Tony. The few I read were detailed. Pretty pointed and detailed. One of 'em about Ari said that he'd intended to take Kate out all along. Shooting McGee was for _fun_." Jethro felt something burn within him, and flexed his fist, attempting to let the anger go. "Another one was even higher clearance information than that." Something he didn't even want to mention to Tony. Kid might have the clearance, but it was history, and unless it came up to slap them in the face like the Hernandez stuff, he wanted to try to let it lie. Besides, it was cruel to bring Jenny up again. 

"Shit, so Vance has to send in a sweeper team that's discreet, top secret and not us." Tony nodded, catching the implications as quickly as he normally did. "That's awful, Boss. You're definitely welcome to sleep here, of course, but let's get McGeek's opinion and see what he thinks. You want the shower first? I'll make us some pancakes and call the Geek Squad." 

Jethro grunted and stood again, gazing around until he spotted his bag. He grabbed it and headed back into the bathroom to shower, shave and dress. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was out, feeling better for having done so. He smiled as he smelled the telltale scent of coffee. "Thanks, DiNozzo," he said as he reached out for the large mug of black, strong liquid. 

"I figure it's best to give you your drugs before McGee gets here. That should be about ten minutes or so. If you'll watch the bacon and make sure it doesn't burn, I'll go spiffy up and come back before he does." Tony's grin tried to make up for the clear worry in his eyes. 

Jethro snorted, slapped his agent on the back of the head, and nodded toward the hall. "Get to it, then!" 

"On it, Boss!" Tony grinned more brightly at him and headed to do exactly that. 

While Tony was in the shower, Tim rang the doorbell. Jethro gazed over at the bacon. It seemed fine, so he let it be for the moment, moving to let their teammate in. "McGee." 

Tim stepped into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. He had his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, ever-present computer inside it. "Hey, Boss, what's goin' on?" 

"Gotta flip the bacon, McGee." Jethro moved to the stove, deftly dealing with the food before it burned. "Give DiNozzo a few minutes to finish primpin' and we'll tell you." He nodded toward a chair. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, Boss, that'd be great." Tim looked down the hallway to where he knew the other man was. 

"I heard that, Boss," Tony called, stepping into the kitchen toweling off his hair. "Probie. How's my favorite techno-geek?" 

"Lay off, DiNozzo. You want these crispy?" 

"Yeah, Boss, if you don't mind." Jethro nodded at Tony's words, and pulled a couple less crispy pieces from the pan, adding a couple new ones in their place.

"What about you, McGee? Bacon?" He gazed over at his youngest agent questioningly. 

"Yeah, that'd be great. So, what's goin' on?" 

"Creep went into Bossman's house and left sticky notes. Not 'Rear Window' style. More Jason Borne style." Jethro tried to process Tony's words, but just shook his head and let him keep explaining. "Seems a lot of the information was way above the general pay grade, so Vance has to let a cleared sweeper team in and print everything. Boss, if this guy's as much of a professional as he seems to be, they won't find anything he doesn't want found." 

Jethro hadn't gotten that far in his thought process. He paused, letting the bacon sizzle while he mulled it over. Grabbing his coffee with his free hand, he took a long sip. "So, if we don't get much, or if it's inconclusive, the evidence'll at least tell us something." 

"There is that." Tony lifted his coffee mug up to salute his boss. "Good point, Gibbs." 

"I wonder ... does anybody in your neighborhood use that neighborhood watch company? The one with the cams?" McGee pulled out his computer and began searching for something. 

"Dunno. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask around. Have to be the investigating team, though. Vance wants us to bunker down until this blows over." Gibbs finished up with the bacon and moved to sit down. "Your turn, DiNozzo. I was promised pancakes." Before he settled himself, though, he refilled his coffee mug and filled a second one for Tim who took it with a grateful smile. 

"On it Boss. Now I see how it is," he turned and winked at Tim. "Bossman only likes me for my pancakes." 

Jethro couldn't hold back his snort of laughter. "It isn't your smart mouth." 

Tony feigned hurt and turned toward the stove, draining most of the bacon grease. "So, Bossman, what's the game plan?" 

"Not sure, Tony." Gibbs grabbed a piece of the bacon and snapped it in half before taking a bite. He chewed and thought through all the possibilities. He could feel the weight of the other two agents' stares as he willed his mind to work. "Thinking I might need to change things up a bit. Keep him guessin'." He finished the piece of bacon and sighed. "Not sure how I'd do that specifically, though." 

"Well, what would you normally do?" Tim asked him, pausing in his clickety-click typing to listen to the answers. 

"Probably finish here, clean up, and bully the team into letting me back into my house soonest." He drained his cup and started to stand to get more, but Tony had moved over to the table. The younger man grabbed his cup and refilled it before he could stand. "Thanks, DiNozzo, he repeated, the expression on the man's face warming him. He stuffed the thoughts down, refusing to think about the implications now. "Then, I'd go lone wolf and see if I could find the jackass myself." 

DiNozzo was nodding. Jethro knew the man hated it when he went off-grid. When he did, he got hurt or endangered the rest of the team. "Right." The tight tone in the younger man's voice carried the sentiment to Jethro's ears as easily as if he'd spoken it. "But you don't want to do that this time?" Jethro sighed at the disbelief in the voice. 

He ran a hand through his hair and picked up the other half of his piece of bacon, looking down at it as he thought about how to say what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Tony he had been wrong, that he had appreciated the way his second had covered his six, saved his damn life a couple of times. He looked up at the other man, letting the emotions show in his eyes. "Yeah." 

Tony startled at the expression on his face, gazing into his eyes for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly what his boss was saying. He turned away, ostensibly to turn the pancakes, but Jethro watched something settle in him. His posture changed a little, and he turned his head back toward the table. "Yeah?" 

Jethro heard a world of meaning in that tiny word. "Yeah." He responded in kind. "Yeah." 

"Okay. Glad we got that settled." Tony sniped, taking the hot cakes from the pan and pouring more batter in. "So, where does that leave us?" He slid the food onto a plate and set it down in front of his boss. "Tasty tasty pancakes if you want them, Probster." He grinned at the younger man. 

"That'd be great, Tony." Tim was back to gazing at something on his screen, or pretending to as he processed what he was hearing. "Boss, if we're gonna change this up, let's really change it up." 

Both Tony and Gibbs looked up at Tim, Gibbs pausing just before he slid the butter across the hot pancakes. "Yeah? What ya got, Tim?" 

"You stay here for another night or so, and then you crash with me. Change the pattern even more. Try to make it difficult for them to find you at all." 

"Makes sense, Boss. No one would expect that." Tony stuck the spatula straight into the air, adopting a strange falsetto that made perfect sense with his words. "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!!" Jethro smiled. Even _he_ got that reference. 

"I'm not the Spanish Inquisition, Tony," Tim grumbled, but Jethro could see the light of amusement in his eyes. 

Tony slid a plate in front of Tim and set the syrup down for both of them. "That's what you say, McPython, but you _would_ be the most unlikely ..." 

Jethro let the amusement show for about half a second, then he looked up again. "Focus, DiNozzo. It would make me harder to find. I just worry about the danger to you boys." 

"Don't." Tony stopped what he was doing, set the spatula down, and moved over to tower over Gibbs, hands on the table as he leaned into Gibbs' personal space like Gibbs had done to so many dirtbags. "Don't you dare." His voice was soft and serious -- all his attention was on his boss, and he was clearly pissed. "Don't you _fucking_ dare. You are our boss. You would die for us, or do damn near anything for us. Right?" He drew out the last word, clearly needing a reply. Gibbs looked up into his face, then glanced quickly over toward Tim who wore a tight expression, lips thinned in frustration. 

"Well, duh, DiNozzo." Gibbs snarked, hoping to regain a little control of the conversation. 

"And we're your subordinates. Hell. We're your friends." Gibbs was a little surprised by that, but when he thought about it, it was true. "We'd do the same damn thing. So _don't you dare_ take the chance away from us. You were just saying you wanted to change things up a little." Some internal timer must have clicked, because he straightened up, moved back to the stove and began flipping the pancakes as though they hadn't just had an intense moment. "Do you know what it feels like when you go off-grid, or do something half-assed," he turned, body still next to the stove, and drew quotation marks in the air with his free hand. " _to protect us?_ " 

"Gonna tell me, I bet." Gibbs started to feel defensive. He just wanted to keep his team safe. 

"Boss," Tim interjected. "When Sarah was in trouble and I didn't come to you right away, how did that make you feel?" 

"Like shit. Like you didn't think you could trust me." Gibbs began to see what they were talking about, but he let them finish making their point. 

"Exactly." Tony gestured with the spatula. "Go on, Probie. I see the flickers of the light bulb over his head." 

Jethro growled softly at Tony's insouciance, but kept quiet otherwise.

"I wasn't even thinking about that. I was thinking, 'I'm an NCIS agent. I have these resources at my disposal to protect my sister, and I will damn well use them to do so.' Trusting you wasn't part of the equation. But it still made you feel bad." 

Gibbs got it. He sat there munching silently on his pancakes and bacon, processing what Tim and Tony had said. Around him, the two men bantered playfully, seeming to sense their boss' need for silence. 

 

****

* * *

 **Information's pretty thin stuff unless mixed with experience.**  
 **Clarence Day (American author, 1874-1935)**

The day's drive had been long. It wasn't too rough as long drives went, but both women were tired of sitting and tired of driving. They found the motel Abby had reserved for them and Ziva pulled into the parking lot, parking swiftly before getting out of the car to stretch. "I have aches upon my aches. This is the most difficult part of driving long distances, I think." 

"Oh, totally," Abby agreed as she opened the door and stepped out. "Worst part ever. I had a friend who told me she had TB." Abby grinned, and Ziva wondered why she was smiling or what tuberculosis had to do with driving. However, before she could express her confusion, Abby laughed and explained. "I freaked out for a moment, because I was in the middle of studying pathology, and everything in there is about the little beasties that can make you sick. She laughed and explained that she just meant 'Tired Butt'. It was a going joke between us for _months_." 

Ziva snorted and shut her door, getting into the back seat for her bags. "I can see how that might be confusing. English is so difficult without the strange acronyms and abbreviations you use on a regular basis. I heard an agent tell another agent to put CYA down as a reason for doing something in his report, and when I attempted to have Ducky explain it to me, he gave me some long rambling story about quotas and a quartermaster with sticky fingers. I didn't quite get the correlation." 

Abby laughed again. "CYA means 'cover your ass', Ziva. The agent was probably telling the other guy to explain something in such a way that his supervisor or Vance could use it to ensure that everyone came out looking good. And I understand what Ducky was trying to say, but he doesn't always give a clear, concise explanation of things. If you want me to explain stupid acronyms and stuff for you, you just have to ask." Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and Ziva could see the dimples in her cheeks deepen slightly. 

"I will remember that. Thank you. Now we are room one-thirty-four, right?" 

"Righty-o, sweetcheeks!" Abby grinned even wider and grabbed her own bag. "If you want to go ahead and open the door up, I'll lock Giada up and we'll rest." 

"That would be acceptable." Ziva snorted at Abby's habit of naming everything. She slid the keycard into the door and stepped into the small, serviceable hotel room with a slight grimace. "Abby," she turned to ask the other woman a question and frowned as Abby loaded her arms up with her baggage. She frowned and stepped out of the way, setting her own bags down and plopping into a seat before continuing her question. "Abby, did you make these reservations before Gibbs asked me to come along?" 

"Yeah, why? Besides it isn't much more to add one person to a room. You start askin' for a bigger room, and they get all kinds of crazy." She flailed her arms, nearly dropping a bag. "Why? You got a problem with the room?" Ziva could tell that she was getting tired; her Southern accent was becoming more pronounced. 

"Only that there is just one bed." She gestured toward the bed in question. "I wasn't certain you would want to ... how does Gibbs say it? That you would be comfortable 'bunking' with me." 

"Oh, yeah. I'm good. You know me. I'm a cuddler. Now, I have _got_ to get this metal off. I love wearin' it, but after hours on the road, it starts to get heavy and ache a bit." She gave Ziva a tired smile and headed into the bathroom. Ziva just sighed and began dressing for bed. She too was tired. 

"Abby, I would feel better taking the side next to the door. May I?" She continued to mentally assess the situation, finding it feasible enough if she slept on the edge of the bed near the door. 

"Doesn't make a difference to me." Abby stepped out of the bathroom, her hair down, dressed only in a black camisole with a blood red butterfly on it, and butterfly-splattered pajama pants. 

"Thank you. If you wish to get into the bed, I shall finish my routine and join you shortly." Ziva smiled at her friend and stepped toward the bathroom. 

It did not take her long at all to get ready for bed. When she returned, Abby had pulled out a very small computer and was checking her email. "Hey, Zee." She patted the bed beside her. "Contrary to popular opinion I don't bite unless you really, really want me to.” Ziva snorted at that and sat down on her side of the bed. 

"Good night, Abigail," Ziva gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and snuggled down to try to get some sleep. 

It only seemed like moments later that she was awake again. She opened her eyes, reaching under her pillow for the weapons she'd carefully stored there, and then listened to the noise that woke her. It was Abby, talking in her sleep. She rolled her eyes, freed her hand, and then rolled to her side to listen to Abby's ramblings. 

"Oh, yeah, baby, just like that," Abby purred, throatily. "Oh, yeah. You know just where to touch me, lover." 

Ziva groaned softly and ran her hands over her face. _Naturally. She is having a sex dream!_ There wasn't much she could do but listen. 

"Oh, yeah, darlin. Let me finger you. Let me make you fly, honey." Ziva blinked. Abby was dreaming of a woman. "Love you, baby. Love your long hair, and soft skin. So perfect." Abby sighed happily and fell silent again. "Oh, yeah." With one last muttered whisper that Ziva couldn't understand, Abby fell back into deeper sleep and the talking stopped. 

Ziva lay there for a long time thinking about what Abby's words meant, torn between elation and despair.


	4. Chapter 4

**"Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind... in the air... in the light. It's all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do... is listen." August Rush in August Rush (2007 movie)**

Tim stayed with the other two men at Tony's house, spending a lazy afternoon watching movies. They'd walked to a nearby fast food joint for lunch, and had decided to make supper together. 

Tony had all the ingredients for a good, large batch of spaghetti, so he pulled them all out, tossing the onion to Tim. "Cut that up, Probie, and I'll get the beef to browning. Boss, you mind stirring the pot for the sauce when I get it going?" 

"I can do that, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, his tone sounding a little distracted. 

"Something on your mind, Boss?" Tony pushed a little. "Besides the obvious, that is." He added the last after Gibbs gave him a pointed look.

"Nope. Just trying to think who I know that would do this." 

Tony looked over to where Tim was cutting the onion with quick, sure strokes, and they shared a glance. Tim seemed to agree with him. It was time to press a little more. "You don't know someone like that from the Marines?' 

"Don't think so," Gibbs said, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I knew a lotta guys, but they were mostly grunts. Or at least basic linemen. Didn't start gettin' into the Top Secret shit until after my girls died." 

"And it wasn't..." Tim paused, and Tony could see his slight wince. "It wasn't somebody from that?" 

"Nope With Macy, Hernandez and Reynosa outta the way, Rivera's the only one unaccounted for in that charlie foxtrot." Tony pursed his lips and thought through that whole situation again. He nodded his agreement.

"I think you're right, Boss, and I think, A, that this isn't his style, and B, he wouldn't know all this stuff." He waved his hand. "Even just the stuff you told me about." 

Gibbs nodded, and Tony turned to crumble the beef into a bowl. "You almost done with those onions, McSlow?"

"I don't know how much you need, Tony. I've got about half done." Tim gestured to the good sized pile of diced onions in front of him. 

"I'll need the whole thing, eventually. But that's good for the meat." He scooped up what he needed, and threw it into the pan, adding just a hint of vegetable oil to brown the onions with. "What about Boone?" 

"Not his style." Gibbs replied, fairly quickly. "His MO's completely different. He'd have grabbed Abby -- or Palmer's girl: she's more his type -- and would have carried her off somewhere." 

Tony shuddered, and agreed. "Yeah, he was a creepy sonuvabitch, wasn't he?" He shook his head. 

Gibbs' grunt was his only response. 

They continued to cook and talk, Tim and Tony working tag-team through any cases or situations that they could think of. 

Finally, as they sat to eat, Tony looked up at Gibbs, and frowned. "And none of this pings your radar?" 

Gibbs grunted, serving himself a generous helping of noodles before passing the bowl around to Tim. "Not specifically, no. Somethin's buggin' me about this, and the only person that comes to mind is Jenny." 

Tony's heart dropped. "It's not Jenny, Boss, I know that for a fact." Bile rose in his throat, but he scooped a helping of spaghetti on to his plate. 

"Well, duh, DiNozzo!" Tony glanced up at Gibbs, wondering what the older man was thinking. The sharp tone insinuated things he'd thought but wasn't sure of. "Not like that, bozo." Gibbs continued, staring pointedly at Tony, almost staring through him. His boss always did seem to have the ability to look into his soul. 

"Not like what, Boss?" He looked away from the intense gaze, using the movements of dishing out the food and passing it around to cover his unease. 

"I don't blame you, and neither does Leon." Gibbs sounded absolutely sure of that. Tony wasn't, and he knew his face showed it. "I mean it. You wouldn't be 'irreplaceable' to me if I thought you had a hand in any of it." 

"I should have..." Tony began, nearly automatically. 

"Can it." Gibbs snapped, and Tony's head jerked up. "She didn't say a damn thing, Tony." His voice softened. "Not to me, not to Cynthia, not to anybody. Hell, not even to Ziva, and the two of them were supposedly thick as thieves." He twisted his fork around in the spaghetti. "Drove me nuts that she didn't tell me." 

Tony couldn't hold back the snort. When Gibbs looked pointedly at him, he just returned the favor, raising his own eyebrows and communicating his understanding of the irony of Gibbs' statement. 

"Yeah, DiNozzo," Gibbs groused. "I got it." They sat quietly for a while, eating their food.

"Boss, you want to crash with me tonight?" Tim asked, sopping up the last of the spaghetti sauce on his plate with his bread. 

"Could, yeah." Gibbs frowned, looking up at Tony. "Gonna need some clean clothes before we get too much further." 

"You want me to call Vance and see if he'll let me grab some for you? Or if the team will?" Tony watched his boss finish his food and sit back in his chair, satisfied.

"Yeah, if you would." Tony knew it bugged the man to ask for help. Gibbs' eyes were hooded, frustration and worry evident in his gaze. "Hate this shit," he mumbled to no one in particular.

"It's alright, Boss. I got your six." Tony gave him a soft smile and sighed. The spaghetti had really hit the spot. "I'll do that, and meet you over at the Probster's house, alright?" 

"Sounds like a plan, DiNozo." Gibbs didn't speak his gratitude, but he didn't have to. Tony could see it. That earned him another big smile. 

Together, they cleaned up the supper dishes and his guests left to go to Tim's house. 

 

****

* * *

 **My path has not been determined. I shall have more experiences and pass many more milestones.**  
 **Agnetha Faltskog (Swedish musician, 1950-)**  
The morning dawned and Abby stirred, looking over at her friend. Ziva was still sound asleep, her snores cutting through the air. Abby chuckled, the sound causing the other woman to stir slightly. With a silent sigh, she got up to take a quick shower before waking Ziva up. Fifteen minutes later, after spending a few minutes just looking at Ziva as she slept, she inhaled and called out Ziva's name. "Ziva, hon. Time to wake up. We're burning daylight!" 

"I did not know that was possible." Ziva replied, voice thick from sleep. "Give me a few moments to shower, and we can be on our way. How many hours do we drive today?" 

"About the same. Sixteen or so." Abby calculated in her head. "Yeah, because we have to make it all the way to Albuquerque, and then take a right turn..." She laughed at her own joke, certain the other woman wouldn't get it. 

"Your country is so large," Ziva stated, stripping off her clothing without a lot of conscious thought. Abby watched, unable to look away. Her mouth began to dry, and she blinked, realizing her body was responding in other ways. 

"Yeah, you don't get an idea of how big it is until you try to drive across it. It sucks to try to get from one side to the other on such short notice. Especially since I'm not flying..." 

"Yes, Abby, why is that?" Ziva turned toward her, almost completely bare. "It might have been cheaper to fly alone than to drive all this way. Not to mention the time we are taking off from work." 

"The ... um," Abby faltered, closing her eyes and picturing the art on her lab walls to refocus herself, "the last time I flew, I got into a lot of trouble at the security checkpoint for my metal. I'd just gotten another piercing, and they didn't believe I could work for an Armed Federal agency. So, they pulled me aside, patted me down, did a couple things to me I wouldn't let McGee do until we'd dated for two weeks, _then_ decided they needed to call Gibbs to make sure I really did work for him." She winced at the memory. 

"I am sorry, Abby." Ziva strode over, holding her close in a friendly hug. However, in the situation they were in, it felt very different. Abby shuddered and nodded. 

Ziva took the nod and shudder as bad memories, fortunately -- or unfortunately, Abby couldn't decide -- and then with a sad smile, strode into the bathroom to clean up. 

"Oh, sweet Mother of God," Abby chewed on her lip, focusing on the routine of putting her metal bracelets and collar on to let her body calm down. "It's gonna be a very long day, isn't it?" She whispered her question to no one in particular. 

It didn't take long for Ziva to get ready. Ten minutes after she'd stepped into the bathroom, she was back out again, clean, coiffed, that little bit of makeup on, and ready to go. Abby had taken all the bags back to Giada and spotted a gas station nearby. She grinned at Ziva's braid. "It's easier to do in a braid, huh?" 

"When we do not have a lot of time, or much need for finesse, it is much easier just to braid it. Even though Tony has pulled it. Does that mean he is ... coming off me?" 

"Coming _on_ to you, Ziva, and not necessarily. It can, but I don't think so. I think he's got his eyes set elsewhere, even if he won't let himself admit it." Abby covered her mouth. "I don't think he wants anybody to know that, even if he doesn't know himself. He should be the first to know, and then the other person..." She knew she was rambling, but it seemed a good way to try to cut off Ziva's legendary curiosity before they touched on things Tony _had_ told her. 

"It is okay, Abby. I was just curious." Abby snorted at Ziva's words, and was grateful when the other woman seemed to back off. They filled the tank and started down the road. When they had been tooling down the highway for a few hours, Ziva turned to her again, a question in her eyes. "You were dreaming last night, and I wanted to ask you what you meant. You were talking about a woman. I thought perhaps it might be a ... _very good dream_ if you understand my meaning." 

Internally, Abby groaned. She had had some very nice dreams, but she wasn't ready to share them with Ziva yet. "Ziva," she began, "I think I was having tummy issues from that barbecue. I mean, it was barbecue, and it was pretty good for a tourist place, but it's got nothin' on New Orleans or further Southeast. Much better there." She nodded, hoping that would be enough for the moment. 

Ziva gazed at her, and when Abby glanced over, she saw the disbelief in her eyes. "I will let it slide for now, but I do not think that it had anything to do with the barbecue." Abby kept her silence, glancing over at Ziva from time to time as they drove through Western Arkansas. 

"It is so green and there are so many lakes!" Ziva peered around. "When we woke up, it was much more empty. And what is an RV Park? I have seen signs for five already, and we have not been on the road that long." 

Abby chuckled, grateful for her friend's attempt at changing the subject, and settled in to explain what a 'recreational vehicle' was. 

****

* * *

 **"The screech and mechanical uproar of the big city turns the citified head, fills citified ears -- as the song of birds, wind in the trees, animal cries, or as the voices and songs of his loved ones once filled his heart. He is sidewalk-happy."**  
 **Frank Lloyd Wright (1869 - 1959) US "architect, writer"**  
 **"The Living City, pt. 1, ""Earth"" (1958)."**  
He was certain this was the right apartment. His information hadn't been wrong yet. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree, rolled his neck to get the crick out, and waited. He was truly getting too old to do this this way. This would be the last time, he knew. He had thought he might need some of his more high tech gadgets, but the man in question had left the blinds open. The night was dark enough that he didn't have to hide too much. The glare from the boy's television was enough for him to see by. 

He shifted again, snapping his pictures silently, beginning to plan his assault on this man's house. He was younger and more open than his target, and that only made things easier. Gibbs was a surly, tetchy bastard, and it had taken a lot of time and effort to get as far as he did in the process. This guy? For all that he was a chameleon, much like ... He shook his head, brushing off the memories. He couldn't think of him now. Instead, he leaned forward and listed to one side just enough to catch the expression on the man's face. This DiNozzo was enthralled at the movie, but it wasn't the wonder of a first time viewing, more like the return of an old friend or lover. Things began to click into place. He knew the exact tactic to take with this one. It would take a little work, and perhaps, a little finesse, but much less work and time than Gibbs' own setup. 

The man noticed his target keep his eyes on the screen, reach over beside him to grab a slice of pizza and fold it up, eating it like a New Yorker. He quirked a brow. _That_ was telling. He made a note of it, and leaned back again, willing to wait out the movie and the night. 

He could see DiNozzo shift and gaze out the window. It was a close call, but he was able to lean back out of the light before the man saw him. He would have to be more careful, he thought. Perhaps the man had more skill than he let on originally. He frowned, content to continue going ahead with the plan he currently had. It wasn't as if he couldn't amend it on the fly. That'd been done before. 

He could still tell that the man thought something was off, and a couple times, he looked toward the door and then the phone. The watcher wondered what it would take to make the target move to contact someone. However, that wasn't his point tonight. His point was simple recon. 

The ... subtle encouragement of Anthony DiNozzo would have to wait for another day.


	5. Chapter 5

**The only source of knowledge is experience.  
Albert Einstein**  
Ziva drove along I-40, gazing at the open landscape. She was still amazed at how much area her new home nation covered. She gazed back to see behind her as she changed lanes to enter Oklahoma City traffic. Something caught her eye, so she sped up a little, changing lanes again, keeping just a little bit of attention on the black car several car lengths behind them. “Abby,” she spoke brusquely, reaching over to shake the passenger's shoulder gently. 

"Huh? What?" Abby shook her head, and Ziva smiled at her friend's attempt to wake up quickly. 

"Perhaps I am being paranoid, but I believe there is a vehicle following us. I cannot drive and pay attention at the same time. Please tell me what you think." She changed lanes again, getting a little further away from the black sedan. 

"Oh, yeah," Abby replied worriedly, and Ziva glanced back. Somehow, he'd managed to cut the distance between them. "He's keeping close enough to see us." Ziva knew Abby was nervous, because she began talking much more quickly. "Which means, of course, that we can see him, too. Not very good skills, is it?" She looked over at Ziva before continuing. "Why am I telling you this? You know. You probably have more 'skills' than any of the rest of them combined. Well, except for Gibbs of course. And Tony. I mean, he can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but you know he's a smart guy. Just not book smart like McGee and me. McGee and me..." She repeated herself, and Ziva had to look over at her. She had a confused expression on her face. "McGee and Me. Sounds like a sitcom. Anyway, what was I saying?" 

"It is alright, Abby," Ziva commented indulgently. "You were merely telling me that he can see us, which naturally means we can see him." Ziva saw an opening in traffic and swerved quickly, crossing three lanes to the exit lane. She glanced up at the billboard in front of her. "I think we'll go to a garden for a few minutes, Abby." 

Abby automatically reached for the handle above the door and nodded wordlessly. 

Ziva pulled into the parking lot of the Myriad Botanical Gardens and smiled. _No one would know if I pretended this was a date._ She tilted her head toward the entrance. "Come on, Abby. I bet you can tell me the names of most of the plants in here, and which ones would be most effective as poisons, could you not?" She gave her small smile, and Abby's face lit up.

"Oh, yeah. I could tell you all sorts of things. I'm not a botanist, so I may not know _all_ of them, but a lot of times, these places have labels. I know enough Latin to know what they're called." 

"Will the common name not be on the label?" Ziva was sure she looked confused, but listened intently to Abby's explanation as they passed through the entrance. 

"Yeah, but our country is so big that even two or three states away, they've got a whole set of different names for critters. Plants, it's even worse. It's because there were so many different tribes of Native Americans. Plus, the French settled part of the country, the English, the Spanish. Heck, even the Russians and Chinese were involved in the early days of California." She grinned brightly and pulled Ziva along, pointing out different plants and their uses. They spent a happy hour and a half walking through the gardens companionably. 

"I wish that we could do something like that more often, Abby," Ziva commented wistfully as they got back in 'Giada' to continue the trip, no sign of the black car. However, both women kept their eyes open for a good portion of the day as they drove to Albuquerque. 

 

****

* * *

 **Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.**  
 **Roger de Rabutin (French writer, 1618-1693)**

Gibbs lay on McGee's couch, looking up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep in this strange place, not after a night curled around Tony. He wasn't sure where they were headed, but it seemed to be going somewhere fast. He sighed deeply and shifted again, catching the lights of the different machines in the room. Tim lived in such a small apartment for someone on his pay grade. When Gibbs had asked him why, he had simply pointed out the electronics, and gave a general price range for each one. Their conversation hadn't made a lot of sense to Gibbs.

 

_"Why do you need all of 'em, Tim?" He looked around, counting the different lights. He'd grant the stereo and big TV, but there were three different computers. Only one kid._

_"Well, Boss, that's my desktop. That's my gaming machine. It's set up specifically for me to game on. That's my laptop," he pointed at the folded little computer, "that's for browsing, chatting and work things. I do most of my hacking from here on it."_

_"Okay, that I get, McGee. What about that one?" He pointed over to a simple black thing that just seemed to sit and whir. The flashing lights showed it was working, but he had no clue why._

_"Oh, that. That's my newest thing. I finally got a server." McGee looked so proud of the thing that Gibbs' eyebrows lifted. "Yeah, Boss. I put all my movies and music on there. That way, I can play them in here on the TV, or in the other room on my laptop." He looked so pleased that Gibbs gave up, and just nodded. "It's being a little touchy, though," Tim added, apropos_

_"Maybe it just wants a good tip, McGee." Gibbs said, making a stupid pun._

_"A good tip." McGee grinned. "Good one." Then, he tilted his head to one side. "You might have a point, though, Boss. I haven't blown it out yet. I probably need to." Gibbs said nothing more, though his mind went somewhere completely inappropriate._

Gibbs listened closely to the ambient sounds in the small apartment, and sighed again. He shifted in place, and remembered how he woke up the first time yesterday morning. 

_He woke up slowly, eyes fluttering before remaining closed.. He was in an unfamiliar bed. He tried to remember what had happened, why he was in bed with...he sniffed the air a little, and let out a small sigh. He was in bed with DiNozzo. He started to disentangle himself from Tony, but the younger man made a soft sound of protest in his sleep and Gibbs settled back in, rolling to snuggle up to the other man's back, draping his arm over Tony's side. He lay there thinking for a few minutes, then the smell and comfort of having someone in his arms pulled him back into sleep._

He remembered the comfort of that embrace, surrounded by the soft texture of Tony's expensive sheets, and sleep came easily again. 

 

****

* * *

 **Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.**  
 **Napoleon Bonaparte -- French general & politician (1769 - 1821) **

Tony took forever to fall asleep, too, tossing and turning, finally resorting to jacking off to the thought of having Gibbs in his bed for more than just basic comfort and sleep. It didn't take long for him to come, and then he fell back on to his pillow, sated and finally sleepy. He began to dream of how it might go, his creative mind spinning ideas round and round. Most of them were positive, though there were two or three that seemed a little more ominous. He heard a sound in his dreams and dismissed it as the strangeness of the subconscious mind, then heard it again... 

 

 _Dammit. That's my window._ He woke up, sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed his Sig from the bedside table. He stood up, snatching his robe and tying it on quickly, making sure he had everything covered but was still able to move. He padded silently out of the room, gun in hand, peering around the corners. He checked every room. No one was there. However, he saw something familiar. There were yellow sticky notes everywhere. He picked up the first one.

 _You were supposed to be in the car that time, too. I don't know if you remember, but you were being a stubborn brat again, and she had to leave you at home with the nanny._ Tony's heart dropped into his throat. He picked up one more and then dropped it like a hotcake. _Kate was only on the roof that day because Gibbs was worried about your health. He_ _ **was**_ _going to leave her in the squad room_ Tony couldn't read any more. He gulped, glanced around the room, and pressed the speed dial on his phone. "Boss...sorry to bother you, but he's been here too. Came through the window while I was sleeping." 

" _How'd he manage to do that, DiNozzo? Your apartment's on the third floor!_ " Gibbs' voice sounded rough with sleep. 

"That damn tree. They keep promising to cut it, and never have. I don't suppose McHotel has enough room for both of us, does he?" 

" _Barely enough for me, DiNozzo. His place is covered in flashing lights and servers and other things._ " Tony grinned at Gibbs' words, and continued. 

"Alright, I'll crash at a hotel and call Vance in the morning. Stuff should keep." He sighed. "Need to catch this dirtbag soon.” 

" _Well, duh, DiNozzo,_ " his boss replied, a little acerbically. 

"Go back to sleep, Boss." 

" _After you call me from your hotel room._ " 

"Got it Boss." He hung up, and moved to grab some clothes and a few extra toiletries.


	6. Chapter 6

**Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.**   
**Arthur Golden**

Tony woke up disoriented, then remembered why he was in the hotel. He rolled over, gazed at the clock, and balled up the edge of the hotel-chic comforter in his fingers. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration, then got up and got showered and changed, collecting all his things before heading to work to meet with the other men and Vance's secondary team. He pulled into the Navy Yard without much conscious thought, then shook off the malaise and walked through security with his normal cheerful smile pasted on his face. 

"Hey, Boss, McGoo, sleep well?" They looked up at him as he breezed through the bullpen to sit at his desk. Tim just lifted his eyebrow at him, looking over his friend to make sure he was okay. Gibbs grunted, gazed at him for a long minute, then caught his eye, wordlessly telling him they'd talk later. Tony didn't bother even powering on his computer, instead he sat in his seat, writing down the contents of the notes he remembered, and postulated to himself about what he might hear in the meeting. It didn't take long for the Toothpick to come down from on high and gesture toward the hallway where the conference rooms were. 

"Gentlemen, if you'd follow me, maybe we can understand this a little more." Vance looked between the three of them, a strange mix of compassion, frustration and wariness on his face. Tony blinked, and turned to look at his boss who wore an incredulous expression for just a second, then Tony watched as he schooled his face into the impassive facade he wore most of the time. 

_Guess we're not so different,_ Tony mused to himself as he sat there for a moment longer than necessary. A sharp cuff to the back of his head and a barked, "DiNozzo!" brought him back to his senses, and he rose to follow the others into the room. 

Vance's team, Balboa, Merrit, Thurston and Pallenzi were already in the room, having needed a few minutes to set up their 'presentation'. Tony nodded to the other team leader and took a seat next to Gibbs, pulling out his little notebook to take notes with. He noticed that his boss did the same, while Tim used his phone thingy. 

Vance began the meeting, outlining what they knew. "Gibbs, we all know how he got into your house." There were smiles at that, and even the boss-man smiled a little before returning his focus to the information at hand. "DiNozzo, you say he climbed a tree ouitside your window? You ask the management about that?" 

"Yeah, I've asked the manager about twelve times. I finally quit when I realized, A, it wasn't highest on his priorities -- water, sewer, and electricity were -- and when I realized it could go both ways." Tony didn't even look up from scribbling down the notes. 

"Both ways?" That was Thurston. "You mean have a positive consequence for you?" 

"Yeah." Tony fell silent again.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs groused at him, and he looked up, surprised to see all of them looking at him expectantly.

"Won't happen again," he began, not wanting to 'apologize' with Gibbs sitting so close to him. "Little shaken, I think." He inhaled, settling himself, then took a drink of the water in front of him before continuing. "I live on the third floor, and yeah, I've got two ways out of the apartment, but I'm convinced the fire escape isn't that safe. And the elevator doesn't work that often." He turned to face Gibbs. "You know that, Boss." He continued. "Having a safe way out of the apartment in case of fire or other emergency didn't seem like a huge deal. And I usually lock the window." 

"Why didn't you last night, DiNozzo," Vance asked him, arms crossed across his body in a frustrated gesture. 

"A/C wasn't working again." He shrugged while the two 'probies' on Balboa's team whispered to each other for a second. "Anyway, yeah, he got into the building through my window." He held his hand out in front of him, gesturing for them to continue on with the discussion. "What'd you find out from the notes at Gibbs'?" He wanted to redirect the focus away from his crappy apartment building. 

Balboa chuckled, but took the hint. He began explaining the level of information and research this guy had done and how they all seemed to revolve around Gibbs' time in Russia. Tony found himself inexplicably dropping his pencil, lowering his hand to his lap, and then sliding it over to rest on his Boss' knee. Gibbs looked once at him with an incredulous look, but he must have seen something in Tony's expression, because he shook his head slightly and let it slide. Tony squeezed his knee once in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, then moved his hand back to his own lap. 

"We didn't know what else to do with the information until we'd talked it through with you first, but we did have some ideas. We wanted to wait to see if you knew who it was before we went digging into the files around that time." Balboa left unspoken the thought that none of them really wanted to dig too deeply into the SNAFU that had led a former director to her death. "We did a general handwriting analysis and discovered that..." 

Tim interrupted him. "Hold on, Balboa." He held up his hand, then started typing on the laptop he'd brought in with him. "Boss, didn't you say he sounded like he'd been a Security Officer?" 

"Yeah. Dunno if he was an NCIS agent or somethin' else, but he sounded like he understood the trade." Gibbs frowned, and Tony wondered where his little Probie was going with this. 

"Aren't all Security Officers required to give a handwriting sample? I mean, he's probably doing the block printing to try to throw us off, but they made me do that, too." He looked to the side, probably remembering his own entry into the Agency. Tony recalled that it was the truth. 

"Good thinking, Probie," Tony encouraged, gesturing for him to go on. "You're suggesting we have Ab ..." He paused, looked around the room, then frowned. "Dammit. The new kid's not that good with that stuff, is she?" 

"It's a simple search algorithm, Tony. It won't take me long to set up, and I'll have the results in no time. Especially if I can harness the cloud ...." He stared off into space, mind working at the idea until he tilted his head and looked over at Vance. "You mind?" 

"Using the cloud resources for something like this? Unorthodox, but I'll allow it. Need to find this bastard and get my primary team back to work." Tony heard a diplomatically unspoken _best team_ in there somewhere, but very maturely did not gloat about it. 

"Thank you, sir. I'll get right on it." Tim began typing. 

"Somebody wanna tell me what's going on?" Gibbs asked with his usual impatience. For some reason, it made Tony smile. 

"Gibbs, all the computers in the building are networked," Vance explained. 

"Well, yeah," his boss commented dryly. "S'how I can see when DiNozzo's misusing resources." He rolled his eyes, probably at the necessity of keeping his team in line constantly. 

"That, too," Vance agreed with a hint of the same dryness. "However, in this case, it lets McGee use a little bit of memory to get a job done more quickly. Normally, I only let him do so on priority cases: child kidnappings, terrorism cases, et cetera. I'm letting him do it this time because you all need to get back to work." 

"Hey!" Tony spoke, hoping to light the mood a little. "Kind of like a computer campfire!" Tim groaned, and Gibbs reached up to cuff him on the back of the head, though Tony noticed it wasn't as hard as usual. Bossman understood what he was trying to do, and at least subconsciously, he appreciated it. 

"Thanks, Leon," Gibbs replied to Vance with no sign of irony. "Appreciate it. I don't know how much longer I can sit on my ass." 

"Yeah, I got that, Gibbs." Tony looked between the two men, seeing again the history between them, wondering exactly what kind of relationship the two of them had. Were they _frenemies_ like Gibbs and Fornell, or was it something different entirely? 

He almost let his mind get completely ridiculous with scenarios before he heard Gibbs' voice nearby. "DiNozzo, you with me?" He wondered what he'd missed.

"Yeah, Boss." He shook his head. "Like I said, little shook up from last night." 

"You need Ducky?" Gibbs looked over him, and Tony noticed for the first time that the room was empty except for the two of them. 

"No, Boss. He wasn't even in the building anymore when I got out of bed." 

"Doesn't have to touch you t' affect you, DiNozzo." Tony heard the implied, ' _dumbass_ ' in there. 

"True, Boss. I think I'm okay, but I may go see Ducky just in case." This must have worried Gibbs, because he stepped closer, lifted Tony's head so he could look him in the eye, and nodded. 

"Go on then. I'll meet ya down there in a bit. Vance was sayin' he wants us to go to the safehouse here in town for the night. Think you and I got some talkin' to do." 

"Maybe." Tony nodded, gathering his things and standing. "See you in a few minutes, Boss." He traipsed out of the room, smiling and nodding at the agents in the hallway as he headed down to Ducky's domain. 

 

****

* * *

 **We must not say every mistake is a foolish one. Cicero Roman author, orator, & politician (106 BC - 43 BC**

It was fairly late when they finally crossed into New Mexico, and Abby was bone tired. She'd forgotten how tired traveling could make a body, even if they weren't doing anything. She looked over to where Ziva sprawled rather uncomfortably against the door, snoring her head off and smiled. _She's so gorgeous._ She sighed, shaking her head, ponytails brushing against her cheeks. _It's only a couple more hours to Albuquerque,_ she thought, her mind considering the possibilities of what kind of food to eat. She'd looked up the town online, hoping to find some local place that everybody raved about. Sure enough, there was one on the outskirts of the city called, simply enough, "The Owl." She chuckled again at the name, and settled in to finish the drive. 

Ziva woke just as they were pulling into the little restaurant. It looked well-lit, well-attended, and seemed to be the perfect place for them to eat. "Abby," Ziva asked as they started stretching to get out of the car. "How long has that blue truck been in your mirror?"

Abby had to think about it. "Oh, gosh, Ziva. I am so sorry. I've been so out of it. It's been there a while. I hope it's not another weirdo. The last one..." She shuddered, not even wanting to think about how close they'd come to some sort of disaster from the man in the black car. "He hasn't tried anything weird, but ..." 

Ziva nodded, and patted the back of her pants as though she was making sure something was still there. _Weapon, probably,_ Abbs thought to herself rather proudly. She was safe with Ziva.

"Zee, I'm awfully glad the Bossman sent you with me." She smiled brightly up at her friend, watching the words have an effect. 

"As am I. Now. We must get something to eat, and I don't want to miss this restaurant you have been raving about for days, so we will eat here. However, I want you to go into the bathroom when we get here, then find me. That way, you'll know where to go should trouble arise and it gives me an opportunity to make sure everything is okay." 

"Alright, Zee." Abby complied easily. Besides, after a long trip like that, especially with all the Caff-Pow she'd ingested, she needed to use the little girls' room anyway. "I'l find you in a bit, K? Don't hurt too many people," she joked.

"I shall attempt to keep my murderous tendencies down to a dull oar." Abby laughed at Ziva's mistake, but didn't correct her. She got out, stretched, grabbed her purse, and walked into the restaurant. 

When she stepped out, Ziva had a man at their seat. The guy looked average, but being around investigators taught Abby to notice small things. He was nervous, bouncy like he was on pins and needles. "What's goin' on, Zee?" Abby took her seat, looking down at her menu, grasping for some semblance of routine. 

"Mister Pendleton was just explaining to me that he was given a large sum of money to follow us. What were you supposed to do?" Ziva asked. Abby had apparently interrupted her in the middle of her impromptu interrogation.

"Just supposed to scare you a bit. Like flatten your tires, or write some threatening message on your car window with foam. Somethin' stupid like that." Pendleton was nervous. 

"What stopped you?" Abby looked up to see the eyes of the man who had been paid to harm them. "You could've been out there molesting my Giada, but you're not. What changed?" 

"Gee... what?" He looked thrown by Abby's name for her coupe. "Oh, your car. Right." He shook his head. "I saw it was two women, beautiful ones, and I thought, I can't do somethin' like that. My momma raised me better than that." He looked down sheepishly. 

"What if we'd have been old bags?" Ziva asked, growling low in her throat (in a way that Abby found very sexy) when he looked confused.

"I think she means hags, Mr. Pendleton." Abby corrected, crossing her legs before she could think too much about it. 

"Oh. Well, that's a totally different thing. Not all old crones are nice, but most are. My granny's a very nice lady." He looked nervously between them. "Look. Call me Mark. I dunno what you two have gotten yourselves into, but..." 

Ziva growled again, and Abby shook her head, trying to brush off the effect the sound had on her. "Our boss -- a federal agent -- is being targeted by a criminal." 

"You're _Federales_?" Pendleton wasn't Spanish that Abby could tell, but he spoke the last word with a Spanish accent. "I'm sorry. Guy's name was Denton. Not sure that was his real name, but that's the name he gave me." He frowned. "You girls sticking around in Albuquerque long?" 

Abby couldn't believe his cheek. She looked apologetically at Ziva before she spoke. "No, honey, Zee and I are here just for the night. We never do get a chance to get away, off by _ourselves_ , if you catch my drift..." She allowed her normal Louisianan drawl to escape, and waggled her eyebrows at her friend. _Hopefully, she'll forgive me._

"Dammit," the man muttered, mostly to himself. "Taken, and bent. Dammit." He shook his head, and attempted to rise, gazing at Ziva to make sure it was okay. "Look," he spoke more loudly. "Here's my information. Call me if you need me to tell you anything else. Enjoy your -- uh -- vacation." He dropped the card on the table, standing completely and leaving the restaurant hastily. 

"That was a very effective way of getting him to leave, Abby. I am sorry I did not think of it first." 

"S'okay, Zee. Just didn't want to -- uh -- make you uncomfortable." She chewed on her lip, and looked down at the list of sodas. "No Caff-Pow. Damn. Well, I'll just have to settle for ... " She sighed, put the dark thoughts behind her and the two women settled in to eat in peace. 

 

****

* * *

 **He is the best sailor who can steer within fewest points of the wind, and exact a motive power out of the greatest obstacles.**  
 **Walter Scott (Scottish Novelist, 1771-1832)**

Gibbs kept watching his second-in-command throughout the morning. After the lapses in the meeting, his worry rose. He frowned at Tony's silence. He had followed Tony down to Autopsy, but Ducky couldn't find anything physically wrong with him. 

_"Jethro, please do remember that Anthony may be suffering from a mild case of basic shock. Having one's rest period interrupted, especially from a traumatic event such as a home invasion may have worse effects than he may be prepared to admit. Cut the young man a little slack."_

_"Not a monster, Duck. Just want to make sure he's okay." He looked up at his old friend, and damn if the man didn't blink, then smile knowingly._

_"Ah. So that is the way of it. Then, I must urge caution in an entirely different manner. You are not the most tender of souls, and ..."_

_"Got it, Duck. Handle with care." He turned to go and was stopped by the pressure of Ducky's hand on his arm._

_"If you would let me finish this particular sentence, I would count myself satisfied." Gibbs nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "You are not the most tender of souls, but you have a tendency to feel things much more deeply than others might. Please do be careful, not for his sake alone, but for yours as well." Ducky made sure to hold his gaze as he finished, then intensified his gaze._

_"Yeah." Gibbs paused, a smile appearing on his face for a moment. "Yeah. Thanks, Duck. Just need to get this bastard and ..."_

_"I realize that is your standard modus operandi, but Jethro, in your life, there will always be another miscreant needing apprehension. As my mother might have said it, 'gather your lilies while ye may.' One never knows how this might turn out, and regrets are a horrible thing. You do know how young Anthony tends to..."_

_"_ _**Yeah,** _ _Duck. I got it." Gibbs cut him off again. "Thanks," he repeated. With nothing else to say, he left Autopsy._

“DiNozzo, you doin much other than spinnin’ your wheels?” 

“No, Boss. Vance has us on cold cases until we get this figured out. I’ve gone over this one about twenty times...” Tony looked up at him and frowned. “What’s up?” 

“C’mon. Let’s get outta here. We’ll go set up the safe house. Nothin’ we can do here but stew.” 

“But Boss,” Tony began, some of his normal insouciance showing. “You’re really good at stewing.” He grinned up at him, cheeky as hell. 

“Can it, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled, though it wasn’t too gruffly. “McGee!”

“Yeah, Boss?” He looked up, saw Gibbs standing, and frowned, tilting his head. “We have somewhere we need to be?” 

“Gonna go set up the safe house. Don’t stay here all night in fronta that screen.” He pointed sharply at his desk. “You do those damn searches, and get home. Got it?” 

“Sure Boss,” Tim replied, but Gibbs had a feeling he was already lost in the maze of cyber-whatever. 

Gibbs nodded, mostly satisfied, and turned toward the elevator, walking closely behind Tony. When they stepped inside, however, it was Tony who threw the switch. Gibbs looked over at his friend and SFA expectantly. 

“Boss...” He sounded very unsure, then rubbed a hand up behind his neck. “Could we go grab a drink before we hit the safe house? I know a little place that’s easily defensible...”

“DiNozzo...” Gibbs frowned, trying to figure out what was going on. “Not sure that’s the smartest thing to do here.” 

“Just the one drink, Boss.” He lowered his voice, seeming to sense what the effect would be if he did. “Jethro. If we have as much to talk about as I think we do...” He tilted his head, opened his arms and shrugged. “It might go more easily with a little ... liquid courage. That’s all I’m saying, boss.” He stuck out his bottom lip a little, and Gibbs relented. 

“Dammit, DiNozzo.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “All right. _One_ drink. We sit with our backs to the wall, and talk low.” 

“Gotcha, Boss!” The irrepressible smile was back, and Gibbs fought down the urge to kiss the smile off his face. 

_That might come later._ He grinned to himself and waited for the elevator to take them down to the ground floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Experience comprises illusions lost, rather than wisdom gained. Joseph Roux (French clergyman, 1834-1905)**

Abby shook her head and looked over at Ziva. “So, last night, when Mark was hittin’ on us, you didn’t seem too upset by the thought of me being your girl.” She shifted in her seat, sticking her stockinged toes on the dashboard. “You like girls?” 

“Yes. I am bisexual. I have found that the gender of a person does not matter so much as the personality. I liked Michael because he was so powerful, but would be very gentle with me when I needed it. It was difficult to learn he was only that way because he had been ordered to be so by my father.” 

“Yeah, I knew a couple guys like that. They’d turn on the charm and the .... ooh-la-la, but as soon as they got your panties off, they were demanding and no where near the charming guys they’d been before.” Abby rolled her neck. “Gettin’ tired of driving, Zee.” She looked over, and Ziva smiled at her annoyed expression. “So, you were telling me about Michael.” She leaned back and Ziva took a moment to let her eyes travel down Abby’s body before returning them to the road. 

“Yes. Well, and then Ray was almost the opposite. When he was with me, he was very eager to please, but I never knew what -- side of the fence he was on. That is how you say it, yes? I could not tell if he was doing what he was doing for me, or to keep me close for other reasons. Part of that may have been my experience with Michael. I had considered breaking Rule Twelve for Tony, but....” She shrugged. 

“Yeah. As I say, I think he’s got his attention somewhere else. Might surprise us all.” Abby stretched, and then settled her hands back in her lap, idly playing with the metal around her wrists. “I have a bad habit of picking guys who are really bad for me. Timmy wasn’t bad for me specifically. I think I was bad for him, though.” She shrugged. “He’s such a sweet guy. Now, I don’t mind sweet, but...” Her voice lowered and she looked over at Ziva with hooded eyes. “I like a little fire in my bed.” She grinned, then fell silent. “So, _have_ you dated a woman before?” 

“Yes.” Ziva said, moving into another lane to avoid the exit ramp. “I spent a little time here and there with Liat. For me, it was comfort and friendship, perhaps ... oh, how does Tony say it? Friends with benefits?”

“That’s one way to say it, yeah.” Abby assured her.

“I loved her, but I was not in love with her. I think she fell in love with me, and when I let her know that I was dating Michael, it became an issue.” She shrugged and tapped her hands on the steering wheel. Talking about Michael was still difficult, though for different reasons than it had been. “I can understand Gibbs’ rule very well. However, when one is stuck in those kinds of conditions for long periods of time, some sort of relief is necessary and inevitable.” 

“Yeah.” Abby fell silent for a few minutes, and Ziva was grateful for the time to collect her thoughts. 

“So,” she smiled mischievously at Abby. “Tell me about the girls _you’ve_ dated.” 

“All right. Oooh. Well, there was this one girl, Janine....” Abby launched off into a story, and Ziva’s smile deepened.

 _This could turn out well._

 

****

* * *

 **The sky is the limit. You never have the same experience twice.**  
 **Frank McCourt (Irish author, 1930-)**

Gibbs sat down in the booth, back to the wall, nursing his single bourbon. Tony was across from him, likewise seated with his back to a wall. He would glance over toward Gibbs every couple of seconds, clearly nervous about something. Gibbs sighed. 

“Thanks for coming here with me, Boss. I know it’s not your usual thing. I mean, no boats!” Tony gestured expansively at the wooden decor, walls covered with blues and jazz artists’ pictures, most of them autographed in black or silver pen.

“Not bad, DiNozzo,” Gibbs replied, not wanting to get into their deep discussion here, but wanting to reassure his friend that he was okay with this, whatever it was. 

“Yeah. I love this place. On Tuesday nights, when I can get away, they have what they call, ‘Groovy Tuesday.’” Gibbs looked up at that, eyes requesting explanation. “Drinks are half-price, and a local band comes in to sing. Sometimes, they’re horrible, Gibbs. I mean... like Ziva snoring in a thunderstorm horrible. But sometimes, they’ll find these really good kids -- usually either coming out of high school or in college, and the kids’ll make a mint from it. A couple have gone on to get decent record deals. I think the manage must have an in with somebody in the biz, because, damn.” He grinned and took a long pull of his beer. 

Gibbs grunted, enjoying listening to the younger man talk. It was like a soundtrack anymore. He had found that ‘peace and quiet’ wasn’t that peaceful. Not when normality was Tony DiNozzo rambling on about anything and everything. He tuned in to the current story. 

“... So then, I told her about Abby’s favorite club. That’s like three blocks up the street. It caters to a very diverse crowd. I mean, she got the McVirgin to go there.” He grinned again, and Gibbs snorted. He was pretty sure McGee wasn’t as lily-white vanilla as Tony seemed to think, but it wasn’t worth arguing over. “Yeah,” Tony continued. “And on the other end of the spectrum, you get guys like that one guy we picked up a few weeks back who lives in chains and almost has his implements on his belt.” Gibbs nodded, knowing about such things, but not having the interest. He could play if his partner needed it enough, but he was ‘boss’ enough at work. “Anyway, she hit it off really well with the manager there and so she sings for them once a month or so. Maybe less now that she’s getting a degree in molecular biology or something.” He waved his hand airily as if the actual major didn’t count. 

“Was nice of you.” Gibbs noted, just to keep him talking. 

“Well, there was a fringe benefit. No, not what you were thinking. She wasn’t inclined that way, anyway.” Tony grinned, and Gibbs shook his head, unable to keep the rueful smile off his own face. “She’d let me play the synth for her when I could. When I couldn’t, she’s got canned music, but sometimes, it’s nice to be up in front of the crowd, showing off.” 

“Never saw the fun in it myself. Didn’t mind telling Marines what to do, but that’s different than entertaining.” He sipped at his bourbon again. 

“Yeah. It’s not really your thing, is it?” DiNozzo said. “I like it from time to time, though.” He shrugged. “Boss...” Gibbs could see his eyes narrow, could see his focus intensify. _Here it comes,_ he thought. 

“DiNozzo, if you’re gonna say what I think you’re gonna say, I think we need to be somewhere else.” Tony’s face fell. “I’m not saying no, Tony.” He leaned in. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page. But I don’t like doing _this_ for an audience either.” He looked down, slugged the last of the bourbon, and sat the glass down on the table top. “C’mon. My drink’s done. Yours is a bottle, and you’ll have it done in a couple minutes anyway. Let’s get outta here.” He reached over, grasped Tony’s hand, squeezed it once as he pulled him up out of the booth, and the two men walked out toward the car, Tony draining his beer and throwing the bottle in the recycling bin just outside. 

“Alright, Boss. See you there in a few?” Tony grinned, and Gibbs nodded. 

He sauntered off to the Challenger, anticipation beginning

 

****

* * *

 **Anger is a wind which blows out the lamp of the mind.**  
 **Robert Green Ingersoll (American lawyer, 1833-1899)**

The man sat on a stool in the blues bar, watching the two men. _Now this was interesting. If he was reading them correctly, ..._ He stroked his chin, thoughts whirling around and around. Maybe he’d leave those girls alone. It sounded like the idiot he’d hired had failed anyway. He frowned as an idea came to him. It might be risky, but he could do it if he was very careful. It’d take a few favors, but if it worked, it’d be worth it. 

He sat and listened to the music, sipping at his drink for another couple hours before a woman sat down beside him and started making advances. He rolled his eyes, set his now-empty cup down, and walked out to the car. It was for his kid brother. It was definitely worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

**A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing.**   
**George Bernard Shaw -- Irish dramatist & socialist (1856 - 1950) **

Tony’s heart was beating rapidly. He wasn’t afraid or upset, just extremely _aware_. He drove to the safe house, pulled along the curb, leaving the driveway for the Boss, and sat there waiting for a few moments. He could get up and go in, but he wanted to let himself breathe a little. 

Within five minutes, though, Tony heard the unmistakable sound of the Challenger roaring up the street. He turned his head in time to see Gibbs pull into the parking lot, stop abruptly, and get out. “You comin’?” Gibbs called over to him, and he levered himself out of the car, newly acquired coffee in hand. 

“Yeah, Boss, just waiting for you. Watching that yellow beast come screaming down the road is a thing of beauty, Boss.” Tony was a little nervous, and he heard himself nattering on about stupid things. He mentally slapped himself upside the head and strode into the house, gazing around. Nothing had changed since the last time he was here. 

“Yeah,” his boss replied, clearly bemused. “Don’t know where the damn guard is, but maybe it’s better this way for now.” Gibbs moved to the couch and sat down, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere.” 

Tony moved almost instantly, his trust and affection for his boss erasing the little doubt he had. 

“Now. You were gonna tell me something?” Gibbs leaned back, giving Tony the space to breathe, the space to think. 

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you that... well, I was probably going to feed you some cheesy pick up line and hope that it did the trick, but then on the way here I realized I couldn’t do that to you. You mean too much to me, Boss.” He shrugged and shifted on the seat. “The easiest way to say it would be to say that I really enjoyed waking up with you the other night. The couple of nights we’ve had apart since then, it was all I could think about. Not just sleeping beside you, of course, but all of it. All that _did_ happen, and all that _could_ happen.” He watched Gibbs’ face for any sign of rejection or dislike. Instead, as he watched, Gibbs’ eyes darkened, and he saw a little of the intensity that made dirtbags fear him. 

“Yeah.” Gibbs drew the word out, and Tony was surprised to see just the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks. “Yeah. I’ve been feeling the same way.” He reached up to rub his neck, and Tony grinned at seeing his normally composed boss unnerved. “I woke up the night I was over at McGee’s and between all the flashing lights, the whirring noises and you not bein’ beside me, I couldn’t sleep for a while.” 

Tony bit his lip, then leaned forward. “I haven’t been with a guy in a while, Gibbs, and I haven’t had a steady relationship since ...” He gestured, knowing his Boss would understand. “I’ve had bed-buddies, or whatever you wanna call them, but nobody who had my heart.” He grinned. “Maybe it was already taken.” 

Gibbs snorted. “Maybe.” Tony looked down at his hands, itching to reach across the space between them. 

“Boss...” He shook his head, and started again. “Jethro.” He gave into his urge, stretched his hands across, and grabbed one of the other man’s hands. “I don’t know what it’s like to do something life-long. Not for myself, not really _as_ myself. But this is pretty damn big.” 

“Yeah.” Jethro snorted, and Tony wondered if he was discounting his own experiences, too. “Good at the long term, or I think I am. Got three redheads who’ll disagree with me, though.” He set his other hand on top of one of Tony’s, and they sat there for a while, just enjoying the little touches. 

“Jethro,” Tony began, sliding over into Gibbs’ space. “I know the guards will be here soon, and we won’t have much privacy until we go to a bedroom...” For a moment, he paused as he considered how they would swing that, then shook his head before speaking again. “But before we hear a car coming up the street, or before we get a call wondering where in the hell we are...” He grinned widely. “Wanna sit here and make out like teenagers?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Jethro slung an arm on the back of the couch, slid it around Tony’s shoulders, and drew him in for a deep, satisfying kiss. 

 

****

* * *

 **Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied.**  
 **Pearl Buck US novelist in China (1892 - 1973)**

Tim sat in the easy chair in his apartment, laptop on the small folding table in front of him, typing up a report from a cold case. He had hoped to finish the searches on the handwriting before he left, but he hadn't been able to do so. When he finished this, he thought he'd set that up. It might work to run through the night. He had some game soundtrack music playing, his dog at his feet, and a bottle of beer beside him. He hadn't taken too many sips of it, though. He was just finishing up the most boring part of the report when an IM popped up from someone he didn't know. _That shouldn't be possible. I've blocked random people from my client..._ He started running a trace then tabbed over to the window to see what it said. 

**KH2POOH2SORA: Have you changed your screensaver yet, Tim?**

He looked at the name, then snorted. In spite of himself, he was amused. Then, he realized he shouldn't be, because he'd only gotten to that part in the game last week. He set up a screen recorder and decided not to respond, choosing instead to tab back to his trace and try to find out who this guy was. At the very least, he needed to know where he was pinging from. 

**KH2POOH2SORA: How's Jethro?**

He kept typing, came very close to identifying where the guy was when he smelled something. His desktop was right nearby, but he had chosen to use his laptop to write his report, since he had others in folders on it. He pushed the table away and stood up, shaking the mouse to turn off the screensaver. He pulled up his diagnostic program, looking at the core temperature and blinked. It was going to melt if he didn't act quickly. He ran over to the modem and unplugged it from the wall, then unplugged the router. 

He moved back to his seat and frowned at the screen. He turned off the music, and gazed at the information he _had_ gotten from the trace. He'd have to go in to the office to be sure, but... He ran a hand over his face and pulled out his phone. "Hey, Boss, mind if I join you tonight? I think he just struck again." 

" _Yeah,_ " Gibbs sounded resigned, which irked him a little until he thought about it. _He probably just is tired of this whole mess. I know I am._ " _C'mon over. Mind stopping to get us some supper? Kinda slipped our minds, and now that the guards are here, we aren't goin' anywhere tonight._ " 

He snorted, wondering what might've been on their minds, then remembering something he'd heard Abby say before, decided he'd rather not know. "Sure Boss. I'll grab some Chinese." 

" _Thanks, McGee._ " With that, the line was dead. Tim went around gathering what he thought he'd need to do his work and be protected from a hacker. He left the modem and router unplugged, not wanting to risk them being attacked again. He also dumped all his files into the cloud just in case the laptop got hit. 

With that, he headed out to get supper and meet up with his team. 

**Author's Note: KH2POOH2SORA is an allusion to the video game “Kingdom Hearts 2” where Winnie the Pooh says to Sora, “Hello, somebody I don't know!” (IE, “you don't know who I am, but I know you.”)**

 

****

* * *

 **A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache.**  
 **Catherine the Great**

 

Abby drove to the college, still fiddling with her hair. She'd decided to wear it up in a fairly normal style. A silver choker served as her normal collar for the day, and a matching bracelet worked as a cuff. She looked over to Ziva who looked stunning in a gray pants suit with a purple silk shirt. She looked so good that Abby swallowed hard. She felt the urge to stop the car and kiss the lipstick off her mouth, messy, sloppy, deep kisses. 

Ziva lifted her brow and grinned, her eyes sparkling with the humor of the situation. "Is there something on your mind, Abby?" She gestured to Abbs' own black pants suit. It wasn't quite 'court-suit' level, but it was close enough. She'd opted for a bright red tank top beneath a black blazer and matching black pants. 

"There is, but I'm debating whether or not to tell you." She worried her lip with her teeth and pulled into the college parking lot, trying to find the specific lot Luca had mentioned. It didn't take long, so she found a spot fairly close and pulled into the space. "I don't want to destroy things, hon." 

"If anyone understands destroyed things, it is I." Ziva looked down at her lap, then raised her gaze to Abby again. "If I am understanding you, however, you will not mess anything up, except perhaps our makeup." The smile on her face was the small, mysterious smile that stirred Abby all the way inside. 

"Really?" Abby sighed. She cursed the time and shook her head. "We need to get goin', Zee, but this conversation isn't over. As soon as we're done with this...well, we've got the rest of the trip home to figure this out. " She smiled, reaching a hand over to grasp Ziva's in a quick, promising squeeze. 

"Of course." Ziva nodded, her long, unbound hair shaking a little with the movement, and they both got out of the car. 

The ceremony was, of course, interminably long. Abby amused herself by taking a million pictures of her brother, his family and friends, and her ... her girlfriend. She grinned brightly at the thought, listening to the speaker drone on for another few minutes. Finally, hands had been shaken, diplomas given out, and they were up out of their seats, moving to intercept her brother. 

"Hey, Luca," she sighed, relaxing into his embrace. "It's good to see you, kid. Congratulations." Abby grinned, reaching up to kiss his cheek, not really caring about the cupid's bow she left behind.

"Hey, stop!" Luca complained, though without any real force. He grinned. "Hey, Abster. How's my favorite sister?" He grinned and picked Abby up in a big hug, swinging her around before setting her back down on the ground. 

"I'm your only sister," Abby squealed, then laughed. "I'm doin' well. Tired of drivin', but that was bound to happen. What's the plan now, huh?" 

"We can go get some food, or I can take you back to my place and we can do pizza and a movie. All of my buddies all have family stuff, so it's just you and I and Mel and Erica and ..." He gestured to Ziva. 

Abby grabbed Ziva's hand, slid her fingers through the other woman's, and grinned. "This is Ziva." She hated the nervous tone of voice. "She works at NCIS, too. With me. Well, not _with me,_ as in my lab, but she's on my favorite team and she's the only girl, and she's awesome. She's from Israel." 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Abby. Settle down." Luca grinned, perfectly used to his sister's ramblings. "Come on. Mel's got Erica over here, and we can go get some food. Don't know if it's going to be fancy, Ziva. Erica's only three, so sometimes, we have to compromise on the fancier stuff." 

"I have a teammate who considers pizza and beer a staple, so I shall not be too overwhelmed," Ziva laughed. "It is very nice to meet you, Luca. I have heard so much about you." 

"Yeah, I'll just bet you have. " He grinned and led the two of them, still holding hands, out to the back of the auditorium near the restrooms. A small girl with ash blonde hair bounced up to them, then stopped when she saw Abby. "Abby-Tabby-Rabby!" Erica jumped up and grabbed her around the waist. "You're here!" 

"Yep. I'm here. Said I was gonna be, didn't I?" She grinned. "Erica, this is my friend Ziva. She works in the big building with me. The one with the orange walls?" 

"You're a police for the ship people." The little girl nodded solemnly, then turned back to Abby, holding her arms out to be picked up. 

"Ooof," Abby grinned, releasing Ziva's hand reluctantly, and hoisted her niece up. "Somethin' like that, yeah. Where's your mommy?" 

"Right here." Melanie Scuito was a tall, slender woman with blonde hair and green eyes. She smiled easily at Abby and reached over to give her a quick hug. "Hey, Abby. She's not being too much trouble, is she?" 

"Who? Er-bear?" She grinned. "Nope. She's fine. I'll let you know if she gets to be too much." She chuckled, both at the nod from her parents and the disbelieving look from Ziva. "Mel, this is Ziva David. She works with me. She's from Israel, but now she belongs to us." 

"Belongs to you corporately, or you personally, Abby?" Mel narrowed her eyes, though her expression was more curious than annoyed. 

"Well..." Abby wasn't sure how much Ziva wanted to say. If it was up to her, she'd tell them everything. However, Ziva was a private woman. 

"We are in the process of negotiating our way through that." Ziva replied diplomatically. "It is all very new." 

Luca raised his eyebrow and looked at Abby, getting some sort of reassurance from her nervous expression. "It's okay, Abby. I understand. Thank you for coming along, Ziva. I appreciate it. My sister doesn't do so well in airports these days." He grinned widely and shook his head. "I bet your butt is tired." 

"Your butt is tired, Aunt Abby?" Erica picked up on the crude remark, of course.

"Yeah, Er-Bear. It is. I've been driving with Aunty Ziva for three days." Ziva blinked at Abby's introduction, but grinned. "So maybe we can do something fun while I'm here, huh?" She bounced the girl on her hip and smiled. "C'mon. I'm hungry, and I'm sure Erica is too." 

"Yeah, yeah," Luca grinned, slugged Abby in the arm not holding his child, and they went off to find food.


	9. Chapter 9

**A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way. Mark Twain**

Tim stood in line at the Chinese takeout restaurant near the safe house, and frowned. Someone had to be finding the answers. He knew that nothing would go back to normal until they found this guy and stopped him before he did something really stupid, like hurt one of their team or spill secrets to those with no clearance whatsoever. So far, he'd just left things in plain sight where other agents could find them. That wasn't exactly illegal, but it wasn't smart, either. He looked over at his laptop and frowned. He needed to run those searches. Abby's stand-in was decent, but she wasn't quite as skilled at this as Abby was. It was one of the reasons Abby fit in so well with them. His musings were cut short when the little lady behind the counter asked him for his order. 

He gave it, and then moved to sit down, keeping his laptop with him. He knew it was stupid, but after his desktop had nearly gotten melted, he wanted to keep it safe. He sat in the chair, keeping a good view of the room, and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Abby's number from memory.

"Hey, Abbs. Sorry to bother you, but I've got a problem, and I wondered if you could find a little bit of time to ..." 

"Hey, Timmy! What's up? Sorry it's so loud. We're at Chuck E. Cheese's. Erica decided Ziva needed to go at least once _._ " Tim blinked, knowing there was a story there, but he didn't ask. 

"Well, we have a handwriting sample, and we need to make a match. I'd have Kelsey do it, but ..." 

"Oh, yeah, I see your point. She doesn't have the 'mad skillz' I do, does she?" Abby was grinning, he could tell. 

"No, Abby," he replied, drolly, "nobody has your mad skills." He chuckled. "In all seriousness, I need your help. The dirtbag who was going after Gibbs is most likely a fellow security officer. He'd have to be to know what he does." 

"Oooh. It might be the same guy who had someone follow us in Oklahoma City and another guy approach us in Albuquerque. He decided not to do anything after Ziva smiled at him." Abby laughed, but it wasn't her normal silly laugh. It was a very different laugh indeed. _Has the whole world gone mad?_ Tim wondered and shook his head, refocusing on the words still coming out of Abby's mouth. "I'll email you the contact information for Mark. Nice guy. Stupid, but a nice guy. He said he was approached by a guy who called himself 'Denton.' He was pretty sure that was an alias, but it might give you a starting point. Most aliases are very closely related to real names. Especially pros. You know when Tony goes undercover he..." 

Tim cut her off. "Yeah, Abbs. I got it." He shook his head at her. "Look, I'll email you the sample, and if you can get to a fast enough connection, then your laptop should be able to do the search in no time flat. Then, you can email me back the name, and we can catch this bastard." 

"Oooh. I bet Luca's still got rights in the computer lab. Will the college network be fast enough?" She was yanking his chain, and they both knew it. 

"Thank you, Abbs. I'm sorry to have to have you do this while you're out on vacation." 

"Shut up, McGee. A lady likes to feel useful." Tim rolled his eyes at her words, but replied in kind.

"As does a gentleman, Abbs. And I better get to being useful. The Chinese is done, and I need to get it over to Boss and Tony before they get cranky." 

"Ooh. Yeah. Cranky Boss is not a good thing. Goodnight, McGee." She hung up, he put his phone back in his pocket, and moved up to get the food, giving the cook a quick nod of thanks before he headed out to the safe house and the rest of his team. 

 

****

* * *

 **His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind.**  
 **Anne Bronte**

Gibbs sat beside Tony on the couch, just enjoying being with him. They'd spent nearly half an hour just sitting and kissing before they'd heard the car pull in the driveway. They had pulled their weapons out and waited to hear who it was. When they heard the familiar voices of the agents come to guard them, they grinned at each other, undid the lock, and let the men in. Now they were all sitting around waiting for Tim to arrive. 

"Boss, Tim tell you what the creep did to him?" Tony asked, sliding just a little closer, letting his fingers brush Gibbs' leg in a way that looked harmless but really wasn't. 

"Nope. Just said 'he strikes again.' Knowing McGee, it was somethin' to do with his buttons and gadgets." Gibbs smirked and leaned back in his seat. He slid his hand along his side, brushing up against Tony's hand, and rolled his eyes. He felt like a teenager trying to get away with something in front of their parents. 

"Yeah. I hope he's okay, though."

"Most of the attacks have been more mind-fucks than anything else," Gibbs said, shrugging a shoulder. 

"Yeah, true. But the Probester isn't as good at deflecting those as you are. Or me. We just do it differently." 

"Think you'd be surprised, DiNozzo. Kid's got a pair when he needs 'em." Gibbs thought through all the times the young agent had stood up to someone on their team or in authority. It hadn't been many, but when he had, it had been damn important. 

"Yeah, you've got a point, Boss." Tony shifted again, looking down at his phone. "Shouldn't take that long for him to get here, should it? I know he doesn't drive like you do, but he isn't Granny Grace, either." 

"Asked him to stop for Chinese, dumbass." Gibbs groused, good-naturedly. "Takes about twenty minutes on a good day. It's rush hour. He's fine." He nodded to the door and then smirked at his lover when he heard the sound of another car in the drive. "It is Agent McGee," the agent outside confirmed through the radio. 

Gibbs glanced over at Tony who visibly relaxed. He grabbed Tony's hand quickly, giving it a single squeeze before standing up. "C'mon. Let's get some food in us and find out what the hell is goin' on." 

"On it, Boss," Tony grinned, standing up and following him. 

The door swung open and McGee came through, carrying a bag of food from the Golden Panda takeout place. Tony was over beside him in moments, relieving him of his burden. "Ooh. I love the Golden Panda. Please tell me you got..." 

"Yes, Tony, I got you Pineapple Chicken." Tim cut him off, though Gibbs could see his expression was more fond than truly annoyed. "You'd think afgter all the time we spend together you'd realize that I know your preferences by now." 

"Yeah, that's true. There are forks around here, aren't ..." Tim cut off Tony's question by reaching into one of the bags and pulling out a plastic fork wrapped in cellophane. "Boss, he really does love me." 

"Better not," Gibbs snarked before he could process what he was saying. Both younger men looked up at him, one's eyes filled with worry, amusement, and attraction. Tim's eyes, though, were filled with a curiosity that did not bide well for their secret. "Rule twelve." Gibbs continued, hoping it covered his faux pax. 

"Right." Tony grinned, but there was something in his eyes. He snapped his fingers and shook his head. "Sorry, Probie, you'll just have to do without me." 

Tim rolled his eyes again, and kept silent, focusing instead on his food. Gibbs and Tony did the same, though Tony chattered about non-essential things, teasing Tim as he ate. When they all had filled up and set their boxes aside, Gibbs spoke up.

"So, what'd he do, McGee?" 

"He tried to melt my desktop." Tim cradled his laptop close, keeping his hand on the bag it was in. 

"He was there?" Gibbs was confused. That was the only way he could think of to melt a computer. He remembered a few times he'd had to shoot computers to prevent something bad from happening, but this seemed different.

"Not exactly, Boss. Every computer is equipped with an internal sensor. Motherboards," at Gibbs' pointed look, he backpedaled. "Look, Boss, you know how your body does things to keep itself within a certain temperature range?" 

"Yeah," Gibbs said, trying to follow the explanation.

"Well, a computer does the same thing, except it uses little automatic programs to do it." Gibbs nodded; he could understand that. "This guy, whoever he is, found a way into the computer and told my desktop it was way too cold when it was probably a little on the warm side." 

Tony looked interested, and he leaned forward. "So, kind of like when you get an allergy and your body gets all hot and bothered with nothing to fight. Or the _wrong_ thing to fight." 

"Exactly, Tony!" Tim's eyes flashed, and Gibbs could see the excitement Tim got from someone understanding what he meant. He pursed his lips.

"But your doohickeys are okay?" He worried about the computer, knowing how much Tim did with each one. 

"Yeah, I just unplugged the modem and the router. I'll plug them back in when this is all over, and they'll be fine." Gibbs was sure he looked confused again. He thought he knew what those things did. "They're the things that carry the signal from the phone or cable company to my computers. The modem gets the signal from the company and turns it into something I can use, and the router sends it all the way through the house. It's like a switchboard, Boss." 

That, Gibbs could understand. "Okay. Glad everything's okay." He reached into the bag and pulled out the fortune cookies. "Here. Forgot these." He tossed one to Tim, one to Tony and kept one for himself. 

"Boss, so what's the drill?" Tim looked up after chuckling at his fortune. Gibbs figured he'd added something to the end of it to make it funny, though he'd had fortunes that were strange in and of themselves. 

"Sleep here. DiNozzo 'n' I'll take the back room -- it's a little bigger -- and you can have the other one." Gibbs lifted his head to look up at DiNozzo, and noticed a slight blush covering his cheeks. He quirked his lip in a smirk, and broke open the cookie. _Great things come to those who wait_. He snorted, then shook his head when Tony caught his eye. He'd explain later. 

"Sounds like a plan, Boss. We've got everything we need, then?" Tim looked around. "Is there a hotspot nearby?" Gibbs stared at his agent, nonplussed.

The agent by the door nodded. "Yeah, McGee, there's a Mickey-D's not too far from here, and they've boosted their signal a bit It's not strong enough for an MMO, but for email and IMs, you're good." 

"Good, thanks, Denali. I need to check my email. Abby should... Abby." He paused, slapping himself on the back of the head. "Boss, someone intercepted the girls in Albuquerque. She's sending me all the information, but the guy said a guy named 'Denton' asked him to do something Abby's car. Even the goober thought that was an alias." 

"Might be one he's used before." Gibbs thought, wheels turning for a moment. "Give us somewhere to start." 

"Yeah. I also sent her the handwriting sample. I didn't want to risk running the program on my laptop in case he decided to melt _it_ too. I think it sounded like she was gonna borrow the bandwidth -- and the IP address -- of the college." 

"That gonna be safe for her, McGee?" 

"Probably. It's doubtful they'll be able to pick out her computer on a huge network like that. Especially since she'll be using her brother's log on, and he has to finish a few small details on his thesis, so having all that extra time on the network makes sense. Shouldn't take her that long to run one search for us, Boss. And Kelsey is great at most things, but Abby and I are just better at things like this."

"Tell her to be careful. In and out. Don't dink around." Gibbs scowled. He didn't like her being so far away, but she was with Ziva and her brother, both of which would do anything to watch out for her. 

"On it, Boss." Tim nodded, and settled down to typing on his laptop. 

"Boss, can I talk to you for a bit?" Tony asked, subtlety completely absent for a moment. Gibbs was glad that Tim was busy. "Gonna go see what DiNozzo wants, McGee. Holler if you need us." 

"Yeah." Tim waved them off, already focused on what Abby was replying. 

"C'mon." He jerked his head toward the back of the house. When they stepped out of hearing range of those in the front, Gibbs turned toward him. "What's on your mind, Tony?" 

"Rule Twelve." Tony frowned. "Does that mean you don't want to..." 

"No. Been thinkin' about that myself. Rule Twelve was actually one of Joanne's rules, I think. She'd met a guy at work before she met Shan's dad, and it didn't go well. Seemed like a good rule of thumb, so she taught Shan the rule. S' where I got it." He shrugged, continuing to walk toward the bedroom. "C'mon." 

"Yeah. So, just ignore it, or make an exception, or what?" Tony sounded really worried about this, and he supposed he could understand why. 

"Made an exception for Jen." Tony winced, and Gibbs didn't know if it was because of mentioning Jenny's name, or because he didn't want their relationship to turn out as badly as his had with their former director. "Aw.... shit." He ran a hand over his face. "I know that didn't turn out well, but even knowin'..." 

"You still would have done it, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I get that. So, this is like that?" They stepped into the back bedroom, and Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the hem of the blanket. 

"Sorta. In the same way that I still can't see the future. Don't know if it'll be a bad idea t' fuck you and wake up and go to work with you. But I still want to." Gibbs grimaced. "In all the other ways, though, this is very different. I've been with a guy before, for short periods of time. All my long-term relationships have been gals, though." He settled himself on the bed beside Tony, close enough that their arms touched. "Never knew anybody so long before I chased 'em, either. Probably part of the problem." He snorted, realizing the truth of the statement. 

"Yeah, me either." Tony agreed, turning to face him. "Boss ... Jethro, if we do this," Tony paused, turning his body so that he sat against the pillow, " _how_ do we do this?" He gestured inarticulately. "I mean, I get the mechanics, but ..." He gave a wry chuckle. "I don't want to get involved and then hurt you. Or vice versa." 

"Inevitable, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, wincing at remembered pains. "Trick is not to _stay_ hurt." He remembered that much from his years with Shannon. "Take care of it quickly." He shrugged. "I'm willin' to give it a shot if you are." With a smile, he turned his body to face the other man. 

"Oh, I am. I really am." Tony grinned widely, tilting his head back a little. "You think we need to tell Tim goodnight?" 

"Send him a message on your phone? You can do that, right? Send him a doohickey to his computer? Make it pop up in his face?" Gibbs appreciated McGee's skill, but there were times he wished he would not get quite so involved in his work. 

"An IM? Yeah, sure. I can do that." Gibbs watched as Tony scrolled down, pushed a few buttons, and then began the arduous task of typing on the tiny keyboard. The others on his team had gotten used to it, but he found it difficult. Part of it was the tiny buttons they insisted on using, and the other part was that he could never remember where the letters were. He'd had several phones, and every one of them did things just a little differently. Not so much as to hamper him receiving information when he needed it, but enough that it made it difficult to completely utilize. "Telling him we're wiped and since we're already back here that we'll go ahead and just crash here." Tony shrugged, hitting the send button. 

"Good job. Now set that damn thing down and get over here." He snorted, shifting his legs so that he could lean in more closely to Tony. 

"Or you could just go to the other side of the bed; we could stretch out." Tony replied, his green eyes flashing with intensity. 

"Could, yeah." Gibbs got up, kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. He slid further toward the middle, sighing in pure pleasure when Tony lowered himself to lay beside him. 

"So, I'm going to make an assumption, but it's more of an educated guess. If I'm wrong, feel free to correct me." Gibbs gestured with a 'get on with it, then' movement, and Tony grinned. "Since you've spent time with guys, I'm gonna say you at least topped once." Gibbs nodded, wondering how much more Tony could tell just from how well he knew him. "And since you're a good leader, and wouldn't ask anyone to do something you wouldn't do yourself, you've bottomed once, too." Gibbs blinked in surprise. 

"Yeah." He grinned. 

"What I don't know, and what I will ask before we go much further, is which you liked better." Tony slid his hand in the space between the pillow and the cover, reaching underneath Gibbs neck, playing idly with the hairs right at the base of his skull. Gibbs closed his eyes, reveling in the pleasure the action gave him. 

"Depends on the guy. With you," he considered his words carefully before proceeding. "With you, I want it all." He opened his eyes and turned his head in time to see the response his words got. He wasn't disappointed. Tony's eyes flashed with lust and his grin widened, turning feral. 

"Oh, god. Me too." Tony looked up. "Do you have ..." 

Gibbs grinned. "Yup. Always prepared." He rolled off the bed, went to find his go bag, pulled out his Doppler bag from inside, and unzipped it. Inside, he had a tube of lube and a packet of condoms. He never knew what the assignment might require, or where he might meet someone. He'd started packing them on a regular basis shortly after Shannon died. There were several months where he didn't always know where he'd end up of a night. He looked down at the tube and packet with a wry smile on his face, then set them on the nightstand table on his side of the bed. He shucked his polo and lay back down. "Got any preferences tonight?" 

"Yeah, I think I do," Tony drawled, clasping his hands behind his head and stretching his body out provocatively. "Undress me, Marine. Please?" 

"I can do that." Gibbs set to work undoing the buttons on Tony's shirt, sliding his hand along the smooth skin he found beneath. He grinned when he felt the soft curls on the other man's chest, and rolled over on his side to get close enough to kiss him quickly, dirtily. "Gonna have to keep quiet." 

"I can do that," Tony whispered Gibbs' own words back to him, voice full of cheek. Gibbs chuckled softly and continued undoing buttons and zippers. Then, when he had him mostly undressed, he spread his body over the other man's, lowering his head to completely invade his mouth. He kissed him deeply for several long minutes, only coming up for air when he felt Tony shudder beneath him. "Bit overdressed, Jethro," Tony grinned up at him. Gibbs balanced his weight on one hand, stripped his tee shirt as far as he could, then switched hands to get it completely off. "Wow. Neat trick." 

"Too much talking." Gibbs grunted, lowering himself down to lick at Tony's lips again. He arched himself up, straddling the younger man beneath him, and fumbled with his belt before pulling back on his haunches to undo his own placket. He slid pants and underwear down off his hips, then lowered himself again, kissing Tony as he kicked his clothes off the rest of the way. 

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he got up, moved to the door, made sure it was secured, and locked it tight. "Don't want McGee or anybody else comin' in here when I'm fuckin' you." He strode purposefully back to the bed, divesting Tony of the rest of his clothes, then began the process of discovery. "Got you undressed. What now?" Gibbs grinned, loving the opportunity to see how devious his lover's mind could be. He ran his hands slowly across the golden skin, gaging the reactions each touch got. He pinched a little behind Tony's knees, grinning when the younger man gasped deeply at the sensation. 

"Want that." Tony said, voice thick with desire. "You fucking me." Gibbs nodded and grinned. 

"Want to take a little time to touch you. Make you squirm. Keep quiet, though. Don't want to have to explain to them..." 

"Oh, god, no, that would be embarrassing. Though you've got the door locked, we could pass it off as a dream. But, no. Tim might break the door..." 

"You really wanna talk about McGee in here?" Jethro slid his hand down Tony's leg, reaching just a bit further to fondle his balls. "Hummmm?" 

"No, Gibbs," Tony gasped out, his cock hardening visibly at his lover's touch. "Just you."

"Atta boy," Gibbs nodded, shifting his body back on top of the younger man and resuming his explorations. He leaned down, sliding his tongue around Tony's nipple, nipping at it gently until Tony hissed, clearly enjoying himself. Switching to the other one, he gave it the same treatment. He lowered his body down to touch skin to warm, soft skin, sliding his legs along Tony's longer ones, spreading them until their cocks touched just lightly. He tilted his head to kiss Tony again, thrilling when Tony met him partway and wrapped his arms around his body tightly. "Can't do this too long, or we'll come like this," Gibbs cautioned, pulling back when they needed to breathe. 

"Yeah," Tony reluctantly let go. "Want to do that with you, just not tonight." Gibbs' heart lept at the thought of 'another night'. He'd known this was long term for both of them, but having the confirmation like that made the emotion run through him. "Tonight, I want _this_ ," he thrust his hips up, jostling their cocks together, "in my ass." 

Gibbs nodded and pulled back, climbing off him. "Ass up, then." He reached over and grabbed the supplies, setting them closer. Tony complied, sticking his ass straight up in the air and spreading his legs wide. Gibbs had to close his eyes at the sight. When he opened them again a moment later, Tony had tilted his head and was just watching him, eyes intense, cock bobbing against his own abdomen. 

"Touch me, Jethro." Tony encouraged, sliding down a little on the bed. Gibbs opened the bottle of lube and covered one finger, beginning the process of stretching Tony open. It wouldn't take much, as relaxed and hungry as he was, but he would do what was necessary. Tony groaned softly when the finger broached him, spreading his legs just a little more. Gibbs crooked the finger, stretching gently, then pulled it out enough to add another slicked finger to join it. He scissored and stretched, crooking his middle finger a little until it reached... "Ohhhh," there it was. "Ohh, god. That feels good." Tony shook a little, and Gibbs grinned. He pulled his fingers out, added a little more lube, and slid three in, stretching him wide in all directions before finally pulling completely out and wrapping and slicking up his aching cock. 

"Gonna fill you up, Tony." Tony's only response was a breathy moan, so Gibbs took that as acquiescence and slid his cock in past the tight ring of muscle. He held still for a few seconds until Tony thrust against the pressure and pushed him in just a little further. He continued to slide in slowly, taking Tony's thrusts as acceptance of more than just the cock inside him. When he was fully seated, he bent over to kiss Tony hungrily. He couldn't hold the position long, but it seemed to ground him, keep him from just losing it right then and there. When he pulled back, he began whispering things, soft, dirty things that made his lover shiver. "You're so hot and tight, Tony. Nearly shot my load right there. Filled you so full of hot come..." He began thrusting, keeping his whispers going, trying to keep from making the noise he really wanted to make. When this mes was over, they were going to steal away, just the two of them, and he was going to make Tony scream loudly and repeatedly. Somewhere deserted where no one else could hear them, or if they could, they didn't give a hot damn. 

He kept thrusting, increasing his pace, shifting his angle until he heard the soft exhalation that meant he'd hit the man's prostate with the tip of his cock. He kept the angle the same and slammed in harder, all restraint gone. He fell silent, biting harshly on his lip as he thrust. He snaked a hand between Tony's legs and grabbed his cock, greasing it and yanking it harshly in one step. It didn't take too many more thrusts until Tony was grunting his release, shooting streams of hot come all over Gibbs' hand. Tony clenched around Gibbs' cock, and Gibbs thrust just a few more times before he, too was shooting deep inside Tony. He bent over Tony again, keeping his cock inside Tony's ass for a few seconds as he leaned down to kiss him sweetly. Their tongues tangled together for a short while, and then he pulled back, gazing happily at a thoroughly debauched man. 

"Lookin' good, there, Tony." Gibbs teased as he went to find something to wipe them up with. Some efficient agent had stowed a box of baby wipes in the bathroom, so Jethro pulled them out and set them on the bedside table beside the other supplies and wiped them both down. He wrapped the condom in the baby wipes and balled the whole mess up, tossing it into the trash. "Scoot over, lover boy." 

"Sure thing, Jethro." Tony shuffled the other way, confusing Gibbs for a moment. Then, when Gibbs saw what he intended, he moved as well. Tony flipped the covers down, sliding between them, then patting the bed beside him. "C'mon." Gibbs responded by crawling in, curling up against his lover, and slinging an arm and a leg across his body. 

_God almighty, this feels good._ They stayed that way, Tony wrapping his arm around Jethro's abdomen until they both fell asleep. 

 

****

* * *

 **Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892, Act III**

Luca took Abby to a computer lab back on campus after they'd finished eating and Erica had crashed from all the excitement. He gave her his log-on information, and she sat down with her laptop to get to work. 

Ziva sat down on a comfortable chair near her, and Luca grabbed a seat nearby. Within minutes, Abby was so focused on her work that she had tuned out the world around her. 

"She gets like this," Luca grinned, gesturing to his sister. 

"Yes, I have noticed that both she and McGee -- he is one of our team mates -- can get very involved in their work. It is a sight to behold, especially when they are working together. It is like watching a well-boiled machine." She smiled happily over at Abby. 

Abby looked up, "Well-oiled, sweetheart," and bent to her task again, without another word. 

Luca looked at Ziva for a long moment, tilted his head, and grinned. "I get it. You're good for her." He leaned back in his seat, sprawling a little. "So, tell me about working with my sister." 

"It is very rewarding. Not only do I get to see her doing something very specific that usually progresses our case onward in a way no one can explain -- well, perhaps Gibbs might be able to explain it, but he is a man of few words on the best of days." 

"I've heard that." Luca grinned. "Your team sounds like an interesting bunch of people." 

"That is an understatement." Ziva settled in, herself, keeping her eyes on her surroundings, but relaxing just the smallest bit as she watched her girlfriend work. She told Luca stories about some of their less tense cases, and how Abby's forensic input had solved them easily. 

Luca looked impressed, but listened, then he started asking about her family. 

"Off limits, Luca." Abby said, clicking a few more buttons. "They're either not around anymore, or I wish they weren't. He comes back again, helping Leon or no, and I'll..." 

"Kill him and leave no forensic evidence," the three of them chorused together. 

"Thank you, _metuke_ ," Ziva rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Abby. "I appreciate the sentiment." She settled a hand down on her shoulder, rubbing her thumb in small circles on her neck. 

"Mmmm," Abby leaned back into the touch. "Almost done, Sweetheart." Ziva saw her copy and paste her findings into the window of an email. 

"Decker, isn't he..." She stepped back, leaning against the wall, wrapping her arms around her midsection and gazing around with more attention. That name set off warning bells in her mind. "When Jenny took us to Los Angeles..." 

"Oh, Ziva... I'm sorry..." Abby pressed send then stood, prying open Ziva's arms. Ziva allowed it, enjoying the comfort of the embrace of her friend who had become so much more. 

Luca looked at them with undisguised worry and curiosity, but neither woman moved for a long moment. 

"Our previous director was a very strong-willed woman. She had discovered that she was mortally ill, and instead of telling anyone, she set up a situation where she could correct an error she had made and was killed because of it." Ziva tightened her grip on Abby's frame, gazing out at nothing. "She and I were friends, or so I thought. Tony and I were her 'protection detail' during that trip." 

"You never told me whether you guys..." Abby wriggled her hips and shoulders, communicating more than her words ever did. 

"We did not. Tony took all those pictures of me in a bikini, but nothing more happened. We shared a bed, slept, and enjoyed ourselves, having no clue that she was..." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm sorry this is bringing up so much crap." 

"Do not apologize." 

"Don't you dare quote Rule 6 to me, Ziva," Abby pulled back, eyes flashing with concern and frustration. "That rule might work for Gibbs, but I'd rather apologize or sympathize with you than hurt you. It doesn't make me weak." 

"That is not what I was going to say, Abby. I was going to say that we have talked it over, Tony and I. Not as much as either of us would like, but we are content. I do not wonder if that is what that entry on his Bucket List means." She shrugged, then intentionally changed the subject. "You are finished, yes?" 

"I am finished, yes," Abby parroted, grinning brightly at her. 

"Then let's go." 

"On it, Boss," Abby sassed, stepping out of the embrace and tossing a bad salute in her direction. Ziva shook her head and followed the siblings out of the computer lab, her senses on full alert as they moved along.


	10. Chapter 10

**Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes. Confucius - Chinese philosopher & reformer (551 BC - 479 BC) **

Tony sighed happily as he awoke, his ass aching pleasantly from their exertions the night before. He ran his hand down Jethro's back, feeling the older man stir. Tony almost expected to have another moment of panic when he realized that he and Gibbs were actually doing this, but instead, he felt safe, happy, and sated. Maybe it was the effects of the good orgasm, but he didn't want it to be only that. He huffed out an annoyed sigh, more annoyed with himself than anything else, and turned to look at his lover. Gibbs' bright blue eyes were staring back at him, narrowed in a question his voice couldn't form yet. 

"I'm alright, Boss. Just freaking myself out for no good reason." Tony laughed softly, and bent his head down to kiss Gibbs'. 

Gibbs' response was a grunt. He rolled off the bed and padded into the bathroom. After he'd used the facilities and ran water over his face, he stepped back into the room and gazed down at Tony. Tony felt like he was being scanned by some sci-fi probe or something. "C'mere," Gibbs beckoned, and Tony obeyed. 

As soon as he stood up and stepped close enough, Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony's body and drew him close enough to kiss. They kissed for several long minutes, then Gibbs stepped away again, pushing Tony toward the bathroom. "Clean up a little. Wish we had the time to..." 

"Yeah," Tony replied, understanding exactly what he was saying. "Me too. After all this is over, we'll have to spend some serious time getting used to this." He grinned at Gibbs in a way he knew was completely cheeky. "Not that either one of us will have to get used to the other in his personal space." When Gibbs chuckled softly, Tony knew he'd accomplished his goal, and headed into the bathroom to clean himself up. 

A few minutes later, he was out and digging through his bag for the day's clothes. He dressed in a white button-down shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He looked at himself in the mirror, examining to make sure there were no visible signs of their activity on his neck. 

Gibbs stepped into the bathroom behind him, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. "Look fine, DiNozzo." 

"Wanted to make sure nothing shows, Boss. I don't mind if the team finds out eventually -- if it won't get me in trouble with the Toothpick, that is -- but I want this to be just you and me for a bit..." He turned around, unsatisfied with just looking at the reflection of his lover. "If that's okay with you. I mean, if you would rather tell Tim today and Ducky when we see him, and the girls when they get home, I'm fine with that, too, but..." A soft cuff to the back of his head shut down his stream-of-consciousness nattering. "Right, Boss." 

"Don't care who knows, Tony. You're mine." Gibbs drew him in again. "But you're probably right. Need to keep a lid on it for a bit anyway. Least until we figure out what the hell we're doin'." He snorted a laugh and Tony grinned, leaning down to capture Gibbs' lips with his own again. When they needed to breathe, Tony released him, stepped out of the bathroom, and sat on the bed to put on his socks and shoes. 

Tim's timing was pretty much impeccable. He knocked on the door, and called out, "Boss," just as the man strode out of the bathroom. 

"Yeah, McGee?" Gibbs replied, glancing over at Tony to make sure he was ready to open the door. Tony nodded his assent, and Gibbs twisted the lock open and opened the door. "What ya got?" 

"Oh, hey, guys. Morning. Um, Boss, you might want to take a look at the results Abby sent back. She ran them through the database there. She's got connections to the databases, and with the network at the ..." 

Gibbs cut him off almost mid-word. "Don't need to hear _how_ we got the information. Need to know what she found, McGee!" 

"Right, Boss. Why don't you come out here and eat some breakfast, and we'll talk about it." 

Gibbs just grunted, and Tony snorted at both of them. "Morning, Probester. What's for breakfast?" 

"Eggs and bacon. Simple." Tim was already walking down the hall. 

"Boss," Tony whispered, waiting until Tim was out of earshot before continuing. Gibbs turned to face him, expression expectant. "No matter who it is, or what it is, I'm here. I've got your six." He grinned, sliding his hand quickly around Gibbs' body to pat lightly on his 'six'. 

Gibbs snorted. "Gotcha, Tony. thanks." 

Tony gazed impassively at his lover, grin slipping into something more intense. "I'm serious, Jethro. No matter what." Tony's own gut was twinging and he listened to it. He'd learned that much from working nigh on ten years with the Boss. 

"Thank you, Tony. I appreciate it. No one I'd rather have on my six. Now, c'mon. Let's go get some breakfast before McGee decides to come back here and sees somethin' he doesn't need to see." 

Tony chuckled low, gazing out into the hallway. "Yeahhhh," he drew the word out. He wished they could have that time together to stay just the two of them for a while. It was a typical feeling when he'd met someone new, and he itched with it. He shook his head sharply to dispel the want and walked down the hallway to get breakfast. 

He could feel his lover behind him, striding at the same pace. He grinned at the thought of them in the opposite position they normally were. Tony sat down at the table and Gibbs sat down beside him. McGee handed each of them a plate of food laden with eggs, bacon and toast. 

"Thanks, McGee. What ya got?" Gibbs began eating, gazing up at the youngest agent as he did. 

"Well, Boss, Abby was able to find out the name of the agent who's after you. I can understand why he'd have a grudge against you, but it's kind of stupid if you know the whole story." 

"Always is, McGee," Gibbs groused, standing to get himself a cup of coffee. He turned to look at Tony, and Tony nodded at him slightly. Gibbs prepared one cup for Tony and left the other black, then carried them both to the table, setting them down in the right places. 

"Thanks, Boss. Come on, Probie, we're all dying of suspense here. Who was it?" He picked up his coffee and took a long drink. He could tell that McGee was waiting until he put the cup down, so he set it down gently and waited for the hammer to fall. 

"He probably feels like he's avenging his little brother. Boss, the guy's name is Vernon Michael Decker." 

Gibbs' fork clattered down on to his plate, and he stared at Tony. Tony gulped and looked away from both men, studying the sun catcher in the kitchen window, losing himself in the bright patterns reflected off the glass. 

"Decker. Dammit." Tony turned at Gibbs' voice in time to see him run a hand through his hair. "Thought that crap was done with." 

"So did I, Boss." Tony looked down dejectedly. 

"Hey!" Gibbs barked out. The supervisory agent stuck his finger underneath Tony's chin and guided it upward and to the side until Tony was staring into the eyes of his boss and lover. "Nobody blames you. I don't, Leon doesn't, she didn't, Mike didn't, nobody." 

"Except me." Tony muttered, feeling raw. "Dammit." He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. "I know she was sick, Boss. I know she wanted to go out all ... 'Butch and Sundance', but I still fucked up." 

"You might have, yeah. I dunno. But when a superior tells you to get lost, you can't do much else. If you woulda been around, she would've been worrying about you instead of dealin' with Svetlana like she shoulda done eons ago. Rule 45." 

"Clean up your own messes." Tony quoted back to him, and Gibbs nodded. "So, is this 'our own mess', Boss?" 

"Nope. This is just a dirtbag. Plain and simple." Gibbs tapped his chin three times in a clear pattern, and Tony's expression softened into a smile. Gibbs moved his hand and Tony looked back at McGee only to see the younger man staring at the two of them. "Might have to revise that original plan, Boss. McSmartypants here is too astute for his own good." 

"Seein' that, Tony," Gibbs said, amusement evident in his voice. "Eat your damn eggs. You complain when they get cold." 

"Yes, Boss, Thank you Boss," Tony snarked, but after one more cheeky grin at the older man, he dug in. 

After they'd finished their food and cleaned up, Gibbs pulled out his cell phone. "Gotta call Leon. Have him come over here, or us meet him there. Needs to know what kind of person Decker is. If he's anything like Bill..." Gibbs closed his eyes. Tony ached to stand up and comfort him, but settled for gazing at him for a long moment before turning to pester Tim. 

****

* * *

 **An author knows his landscape best; he can stand around, smell the wind, get a feel for his place.**  
 **Tony Hillerman (American author, 1925-)**

Decker watched from the house next door, having given the owner some sob story about working with the press and needing to see what was visible from her window for a news piece. "It won't take that long, Mrs. Amberline, and all I have to do is sit here in this chair and watch for a couple hours. Would that be alright? If not, I can just snap a picture and do it all digitally. It's just that that takes so much more work and time, and our most competent digital artist just took family leave and..." 

"Oh, no," the elderly lady said, smiling at him with understanding. "My Geoffery was a newspaper photographer. I understand completely." She gestured to the chair. "Would you like a cup of coffee or something while you watch?" 

"Thank you, Ma'am, I would appreciate that. If it's no trouble." Decker flashed her a winning smile. 

"No trouble at all. And call me Joanie." He nodded.

"Then call me Vern." He went ahead and gave her his real first name. It wouldn't matter. They already knew who he was by now. 

"Will do." She watched him sit down in the seat and begin the process of scoping the house next door, then she stepped into the kitchen to get his coffee and probably something sweet. 

Decker sat back in the comfortable chair, watching closely as the men of the MCRT left their 'safe house.' He'd known about the place from Billy's notes, but had wanted them to keep their illusion of safety. He smirked as he thought about what the device on the tailpipe of the car would do. It was a red herring, but it would give him time and send them fleeing from yet another safe place. He grinned, changing the depth and type of smile when Joanie returned with the coffee. "Here you go, Vern." 

"Thank you, Joanie." 

"It's nothing." She nodded back toward the kitchen. "I've got some chips or some cookies if you'd like a snack?" 

"I'm alright for now." He turned his gaze back toward the window. "Thank you, though." She nodded, then left him to it. 

The youngest one found the device. _Predictable._ It was a simple GPS tracker, but he'd encased it in a different container, wiring it to emit a low hum every few minutes, as though it were sending off some kind of message or odd wave. The old man would consider it a bomb of sorts, the cop would think it was either a bomb or something he'd never seen before but equally devastating, but the kid, the kid was into science fiction. He was a writer. His young mind would take the idea and spin a thousand _what-ifs_ around it until he couldn't sleep. Besides, he was curious to see where they would go. When they were worried about this big, visible thing, they would not notice the tiny tracker he'd placed right beside it. 

His grin sharpened, turned feral, and he sipped at his coffee, watching them as they sped away. 

 

****

* * *

" **I wonder if anyone else has an ear so tuned and sharpened as I have, to detect the music, not of the spheres, but of earth, subtleties of major and minor chord that the wind strikes upon the tree branches. Have you ever heard the earth breathe . . . ?"**  
 **Kate Chopin (1851 - 1904) US author**

Abby pulled into the parking space and parked Giada, glancing around at their hotel. It was a decent hotel, but not too high class. Though both of them could have afforded better, they were attempting to be somewhat frugal just in case something happened that needed copious amounts of money to fix. Ziva looked over at her, dark eyes still hooded with frustration and annoyance at being reminded of the Decker situation. She frowned and got out of the car, moving around to open Ziva's door for her. 

"You did not have to do that, Abby, I am not incapable of opening my own door. I do not wish to seem a delicate little flower." Abby grinned as Ziva got the idiom right. 

"I know I didn't have to, Zee, I wanted to. I was raised in the South, where gentlemen did such things for their ladies. Not implying anything about you or me, but it's just considered something courteous to do to for a lady when you appreciate her. Maybe it's the only way I know how to show you..." She chewed on her lip, hoping Ziva would take it the right way. 

"Oh. I see. In that case, thank you very much." Ziva stepped out and executed a cute little curtsey, then grinned, striding quickly toward the hotel room. Abby gave chase, though not so quickly that it looked out of place. She laughed brightly and stepped inside the room, shutting and bolting the door before reaching up to draw her lover's head down for a long kiss. 

"Do you know what I want to do with you?" Abby breathed, kissing her again. "I want to spend the afternoon and evening making you scream. I hear you do that, y'know." She winked, and Ziva shook her head with a grin. "Would that be alright?" 

"I would be rather disappointed if you did not, as long as I may return the favor, my _ahuvi_." Ziva gave that soft, enigmatic smile and pulled Abby closer, then moved them both to sit on the edge of the bed. "I have not ever had a woman who was more to me than sister-at-arms, occasional comfort and stress relief. I think I will enjoy having you as my lover." 

"Yeah," Abby began undressing, or tried to, before she felt her hands being batted away. 

"I want to do this. We will have time another day for you to tantalize me with your slow undressing. Today, I want to see you." 

"You've seen me, Zee. I'm not shy." 

"Neither am I, but then you were not mine to -- touch. To sample." Matching actions to words, Ziva bent over and licked a little on the side of her neck. "I do not wish to rot the mood," 

"Spoil the mood," Abby murmured, then fell silent, letting Ziva finish. 

"Right, yes. _Spoil_ the mood, then. But I did want to be sure. I wanted to tell you that I was tested recently, and have nothing that would get in the way of whatever you have in mind tonight." 

"Oh, me too. It's been about a month or so, but I haven't had any time for any hanky-panky, so it should still be good." 

"Thank you," Ziva smiled, and then went back to undressing her, licking at her neck then nipping gently. "You must tell me if you do not like something, My Soul." She pulled back, gazing intently into Abby's eyes, trying to gage her reaction. 

"Oh, honey, don't worry about me. If I've got something to say, I'll say it." Abby gave her a lascivious smile. "Now, I'd like to do a little to you. What do you say?" 

"That seems fair," Ziva tossed her head back, long hair trailing down her back. 

Abby was reveling in the energy between them. She knew it was what they labeled 'New Relationship Energy' or something, but she didn't care, frankly. She began undressing the other woman, shucking the jacket and sliding her hands under her shirt. "Knew we shouldn't have gone to Chuck E. Cheese dressed like this. You got tomato sauce on your shirt." 

"It will clean. Much more easily than -- " Ziva fell silent, but Abby knew what she hadn't said: _blood, offal, dumpster leachate...._ her scientist's mind began to go off on all the different liquids her team had to endure in the course of a case, but Ziva leaned forward and took deep possession of her mouth. Abby lost her train of thought completely, and succumbed to the passion of her lover.


	11. Chapter 11

**Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892, Act III**

After reassuring everyone that the device wasn't a bomb, Gibbs drove everyone back to the Navy Yard. Tony sat up front, his movements suspiciously quiescent as he chattered. Finally, Gibbs gave him a look, and Tony fell silent.

Tim watched from the back seat, measuring their actions and reactions to each other. Something had changed, he knew, but he wasn't sure what exactly. He frowned, his mind mixing up possibilities. He shrugged it off, not sure he wanted to know. "Boss," he spoke up a little, wanting to get their attention. 

Tony startled as though he'd forgotten Tim was in the car. _Oh, geeze. That's really nice!_ He grumbled to himself for a minute before realizing what might be keeping Tony preoccupied. "Can you tell us about Decker? I mean, you can't tell us about the op, obviously, need to know, but could you tell us about him? It might give us some insight into the guy after you." It seemed like the right thing to say, because Tony caught his eye in the rear-view mirror, grateful and apologetic. 

"Yeah, suppose I could do that. Man was damn good at his job, for one. Might've been why I let Jen slide, well, that and I was banging her at the time," Gibbs sounded annoyed at himself. "Reason I kept Rule Twelve." Tim's ears perked up at that -- Rule Twelve wasn't his? He kept listening. "Could be a little talkative. Not like DiNozzo, but needed to fill the silence sometimes. Not when it counted, but when we were done, or waiting without fear of being caught? He'd tell jokes, he'd tell these crazy tales you knew weren't true..." He shrugged. "It was like he was trying to make everything easier for us. He'd be the one to run out and get the supplies, he'd be sure to check and recheck our plans. Got used to it." He looked up, and even while he pulled off the highway on to the road to the Yard, Tim saw him catch Tony's eye, and there was definitely communication happening between them. He wished for just a moment that he understood what they were saying to each other, then realized he probably didn't want to know. Not with Tony and Gibbs. He shook his head. "Everything okay back there, McGee?" Gibbs asked, now gazing at him in the mirror for a second or two. 

"Yeah, Boss. Just clearing the dust bunnies from my head. He sounded like a good guy." Tim wanted to get as much information about Decker as he could before Vance shut them off or Gibbs got so angry at something he wouldn't say more. 

"Was. Bill was a good friend. Pacci reminded me of him." Gibbs swerved into a better spot in traffic. "Friendly, but not overbearing. Kinda guy who's always there, givin' support and making things easier for us. Kinda like you." The team leader caught his eye again, and Tim flushed with the praise. It wasn't what he was fishing for, but he'd take it.

"Thanks, Boss." He fell silent, and waited for Tony's inevitable joke. When it didn't come, he frowned and tilted his head, thinking about where Tony's mind could be. _Sheppard. Right._ He sighed, and decided to change the subject. "What do you think this is, Boss?" He held up the disk and looked it over. 

"Dunno. Never seen anything that shape. You don't recognize it?" 

"Nope." Tim twisted it in his hands, trying to think through what it might be. 

"I thought sure it was a bomb," Tony replied, and his voice was subdued. _Of course,_ Tim thought, narrowly avoiding slapping himself on the head. _Between Kate and the Boss, Tony doesn't want to remember things blowing up._ "But it hasn't blown up, wasn't connected to anything to make it blow up... Doesn't tick, doesn't seem to have a remote..." He seemed to be ticking things off on his fingers. 

Gibbs slid his hand over, setting it on the younger agent's hand, then looking up at him for just a second. "We'll find out what it is, Tony. Don't sweat it." Tim blinked, watching the whole exchange.

"Thanks, Boss." Tim tried to determine what the look was in Tony's eyes, but Gibbs was pulling into the yard and they were hopping out to give the thing to Vance then the lab. 

 

****

* * *

 **Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!**  
 **William Butler Yeats (Irish poet, 1865-1939)**

Abby pulled out of her brother's driveway, blinking back the tears. She sighed, turning to face Ziva for a moment, using the movement to check for cars behind her. "Gonna miss them." 

"Perhaps they can come to you next time, now that Luca does not have a strict school schedule?" Ziva reached over and grabbed Abby's free hand, settling both on the gearshift. 

"Yeah, maybe. Now that Erica's a little older, she'll fly a bit easier, I think." Abby nodded, grinning. She snatched her hand back to put it on the wheel. "Not that I don't wanna hold your hand, Zee ..." 

"It is all right. You must drive. That is the important thing." Ziva settled back in. "Are we returning the same way we came?" She gazed out at the traffic.

"Yeah, I think it's the fastest way. If they're dealing with Decker, then I think we need to be there to help, if we can. Might let you drive a little more. You've gotta be nice to Giada, though." 

"I can do that." Ziva smiled. "Perhaps we could drive straight through? It would make us more tired when we arrived home, but a good night's sleep would take care of most of it, I am sure." 

"Maybe," Abby chewed on her lip as she considered it. "Anyway, Zee, I'm glad you came out here with me. We wouldn't have gotten together, I don't think, if you hadn't." 

"Mmm," Ziva agreed. Abby stole a quick glance at her, and saw the previous night replaying in her mind.

"My favorite part was getting to curl up with you and just hold you while we slept." She pushed the accelerator down to keep pace with the traffic. 

"Mmm. That was rather good. I particularly liked the part where I made you scream first, My Soul." Ziva winked at her and Abby shook her head. 

"Yeah." Silence fell for a while, then Abby noticed that Ziva had started to doze off. "You don't have to stay awake for me, hon." Abby said, grinning. "I know it's been tiring for you, and I didn't make it any easier for us keepin' us up so late." 

"Do not apologize for any portion of last night, Abigail." Ziva settled in to rest. "I think I will sleep. Please let me know when you start to feel drowsy, and I will take out." 

"Take over," Abby murmured, amused.

"Yes. Take over." With that, Ziva fell silent, beginning to doze. Abby pulled out her iPod, settled the earbuds into her ears, and cranked some Android Lust to keep her going for a good long while. 

 

****

* * *

 **When you have really exhausted an experience you always reverence and love it.**  
 **Albert Camus (French philosopher, 1913-1960)**

Tony sighed as they went back to Gibbs' house that night. It was the biggest of the three, it had been cleared, and Gibbs all but demanded it. Tony wasn't sure they were ready to be there yet, but the older man felt safe enough. It was possible Jethro needed to be in his own space to work out some of the feelings that had come up today. Between telling Vance, trying to deal with their new relationship, and thinking about Decker and Jenny, Gibbs was in a difficult position. Tony wasn't sure what the older man was thinking, and he didn't want to push. He entered the house, gazing around. It didn't look too different. The team had been expertly efficient. He expected nothing else from the team sent to examine Gibbs' house. 

"Everything okay, Tony?" Gibbs was looking at him, reading glasses on, thick book in his lap. 

"I ought to be asking you that question." Tony crossed his arms and shifted his weight, suddenly a little nervous. "This has to be hitting you pretty hard. He wanted to make us hate you. _That_ would never happen, for one. But it's gotta bring up all sorts of stupid crap..." 

"Yeah," Gibbs acknowledged. "Come here." He gestured to the seat beside him, and before he could really think about it, Tony obeyed. Gibbs wrapped his arm around Tony's waist, pulling him closer. He kissed his temple, then spoke. "Part of me is doin' my level best not to think about how I could've done things differently. There's always a part of me wanting to do the AAR..." 

_After-Action Review,_ Tony mentally translated. "I get that. I'm more attuned to coach or performance reviews, but it's the same thing. What could I have done to improve?" 

"Yeah. The other part had forgotten about Bill. Hell of a thing. Shouldn't have forgotten about him, even though ..." 

"Don't feel guilty for that, Boss. It's okay if some things fade. You've only got so much room up there..." He grinned, and then chuckled when the expected head-slap wasn't given, but a jab in the ribs was. Tony turned in the seat, facing his lover, and reached up to take the glasses off, drawing an intense glare for his daring. "Listen, Jethro, I meant what I said. I'm with you all the way. I was even before we started..." He gestured between them. "... this, whatever it is." He settled one hand on the other man's cheek, thumb stroking on his cheek. "I ... I'm pretty sure how I feel about you. Even this being new, and long-term... I'd do anything for you. If you need me to leave or back off, I'll do that, too, though it'll rip something right out of me..." He blushed. He sounded like a movie heroine. "Sorry boss, I..." 

Gibbs apparently had had enough of his rambling, because he squeezed the arm around him more tightly, pressing them closer together. The hand slid from his waist to his neck, and Gibbs leaned in, connecting their lips together in a passionate kiss. Tony opened up his mouth, letting Gibbs' tongue invade, then slid his tongue in. The two of them sat kissing for several long minutes. 

Out of breath, Tony pulled away first. "Come on." Tony stood up, breaking free of Gibbs' embrace, and grabbed one of his hands. "Upstairs, now." Gibbs looked amused and intrigued. "Where do you want us to go?" Tony used the guest room from time to time, but he wasn't sure where Gibbs wanted them to do this. 

"C'mere," Gibbs' voice was low and husky, filled with desire. He pulled them toward the Master Bedroom. 

"Boss, are you sure?" 

"Yeah." Gibbs smirked, drawing him more insistently toward his room. "I want you in there." 

"Mind if I drive tonight? I have this need to show you how much I want you. How much I believe in you." Tony watched Gibbs' eyes as he spoke, and something fell into place. Tony groaned, aroused even more by the power he had over such a strong man. He was inordinately glad to be able to help him through this. 

"Yeah, I think I could handle that," Tony watched as Gibbs swallowed. Gibbs pulled him into the bedroom.

"Take your shirt off, Gibbs," Tony ordered, and Gibbs complied. Tony shucked his own shirt, then pressed Gibbs down into the mattress. He spread his legs, straddling Jethro then lowering himself over the other man until their lips met. They kissed insistently for several long minutes, Tony not pushing things much further yet. Gibbs respected his pace, though he reached his arms up to run them up and down Tony's bare back. 

When the need to breathe overwhelmed Tony -- _Damn, that plague,_ Tony thought for the millionth time -- he raised himself up, sliding his body down along Gibbs' until he was standing on the floor again. He reached down to unbuckle Gibbs' belt, paying careful attention to the knife hidden in it. He reached in, undoing the placket and pulling it all down. Gibbs had already shed his shoes when he'd gotten home, so it was an easy matter to get his pants off. Tony pulled back enough to undo his own pants, then when he'd taken them completely off, he reached up, and began massaging Gibbs feet. 

"Tony?" Gibbs sounded a little unsure. 

"Just let me do this, Jethro. Let me work my way up to it. I want you to relax. You're always so tense." The massages he'd learned from his Physical Education studies for stiff and sore muscles worked just as well for this, and it was easy to fall back into doing them. However, he did one thing he never did to the basketball players. He left trails of kisses all over the skin he massaged. He listened to the sounds Gibbs was making; he used them to find spots that were more sensitive, avoid spots that were ticklish, and relax and arouse his partner at the same time. 

"Tony," Gibbs groaned, his head thrown back, body arched into the touch. "Please..." 

Tony just grinned. "Seems I learned how to be a bastard from the best, Jethro." He chuckled and kept up his assault, licking and kissing his way up to Gibbs' cock. He licked one long lick along the base, and then stepped back. "You got lube?" 

Gibbs looked at him incoherently for a long moment before he realized what Tony wanted. "Drawer. Condoms there too..." 

"I'm clean, but I'll use one if you want me to." 

"Not necessary. I'm clean, too." Tony grinned at that news, and strode quickly over to the bedside table to grab the slick. Instead of going back to the foot of the bed, he crawled up beside his lover, kissing him deeply until he got that zoned look back, then he grabbed the leg nearest him and pulled it up. "Ass up." 

Gibbs obeyed, his body limber enough that he could shift to keep his ass in the air without much fuss. Tony slicked up a finger and began sliding it inside, twisting it and turning it. He quickly added another finger and scissored them, twisting until Gibbs was as stretched as he could be. "Want me to try, or do you want a third?" 

"Feels good. Slow." Gibbs' voice was low and gravelly, thick with arousal. 

"Gotcha." Tony leaned in, lining himself up, and slid inside, moving slowly to let his lover adapt. "Let me know, Jethro," Tony began, and then groaned as the head of his cock breached the muscle. "You feel so good. Wanted you to know I love you. Wanted you to know I need you. No matter what, I trust you. I've trusted you for years..." He slid in a little more, leaning over to kiss Jethro as he did. "No matter how this turns out... I'm glad we did this. I'm glad we got together. You're worth it." He pushed himself in until he was fully seated, then waited until Jethro gave him the go ahead to move. 

"Glad to hear it, Tony. Glad you're mine..." Gibbs responded to his words. "Always glad you've been on my six, now I'm even more glad you're with me all the way." He sighed and squeezed around Tony's cock. "Move, then," he encouraged, though without the usual bite of his orders. 

Tony shifted a little to get the support right, then he began thrusting deeply. He kept his thrusts slow and lazy, wanting to build things back up. Balancing himself on his knees and one hand, he used his free hand to play with the skin on Gibbs' abdomen. He tweaked his nipples, lowering his head to tease them gently with his teeth. It took a while, but he felt the pressure start to build inside him, and felt Gibbs' body arch again. He slicked his hand a little more, and grasped Gibbs' cock, stroking it slowly in time with his thrusts. It was only a moment later that he responded to the instinct to speed up. He shifted a little, and Jethro sighed. Keeping that angle, he began to move more frenetically, hammering his lover's prostate. 

A couple moments later, Gibbs clenched around him and came, shooting come all over their chests. Gibbs reached up, pulled Tony down, kissing him hungrily. Tony kept thrusting a few more times until he came, the slow buildup of pleasure a precursor to a strong orgasm that bowled him over. He groaned out his release, then slid out. Gibbs kept a box of tissues beside the bed, so he grabbed a couple and began cleaning them up. Throwing the tissues away and stowing the lube, Tony got under the covers and drew Gibbs under with him. They wrapped themselves around each other and fell asleep. 

Neither man stirred when the door opened in the middle of the night.


	12. Chapter 12

**If all else fails, immortality can always be assured by spectacular error.**   
**John Kenneth Galbraith - US (Canadian-born) administrator & economist (1908 - 2006)**

Vern stepped into the house, surprised that the Marine didn't lock his door even now. He looked over at the youngest sleeping on the couch. From the layout of the house and what he saw within, he figured the other two were up the stairs. If they'd finished the dancing around each other they'd started at the bar, they'd be together. In a compromising position. He couldn't have planned this better if he'd tried. He padded up the stairs, narrowly avoiding the one that creaked. He'd tested them when he'd left the notes, and remembered the creaky stair. It was a simple but effective alert, but knowledge of it made it completely useless. He moved silently along the hallway, small canister in hand. It was a simple trick, really: drain all of the product from a spray can and fill it with the gas you wanted to spray, then set it down on the ground and leave the area. He'd seen it done so many times it wasn't even difficult to do anymore. 

He gazed into the guest bedroom -- he figured that would be where the pair was. Intelligence had shown that the man hadn't slept in his proper bedroom since his first wife was killed. However, when he looked into the room, there was no one there. He'd calculated the dispersal rate of the gas for this room, so it might not work quite as effectively... He wandered down the hallway. There were two more rooms. The man wouldn't ever use the next room; it had been his daughter's. He understood that kind of devotion. His heart caught when he thought of Billy. Billy was the reason he was doing this. He focused his thoughts back to the hallway. The only door left was the master. They were in here. He could hear one of them snoring. Probably the younger of the two, Vern reasoned. The man had a larger nose and seemed prone to breathing difficulties. He had read about the plague incident, though he didn't quite believe it. It was most likely a bullshit story told to protect an undercover operation that took up those two weeks. Hospital records could be faked. He'd done that before, too. 

He stepped up to the door, opening the handle slowly, hoping it didn't creak. If it did, he was sure to get at least one Sig Sauer in the face, probably two. It didn't, so he continued, scanning the room quickly for the best place to drop his canister. He stuck a finger in his mouth, then held it up to feel the ventilation. Backtracking toward the source of the air, he set the can down on a small wooden table in the corner that was most likely made by the man in the bed. It was sturdy, handmade, but high quality. He'd stayed out of this room before, only peeking in to see the dust, but somehow, between then and now, the dust had been swept away. 

Having accomplished his goal, he stole back down the stairs carefully, edging out toward the car. He held his breath as he passed the kid, willing him to stay asleep. When he reached the door, he opened it slowly, then got into his car to drive away. The timer inside the little 'bug bomb' was set to go off around 0530. It was 0330 now. In two hours, he wouldn't have to worry about Billy's killer anymore. True, the man hadn't pulled the trigger, but he'd been the reason his little brother had died. 

He could rest now, could finally go see his lawyer and tell him it didn't matter. Everything was taken care of. No matter the outcome, he'd done what he needed to do. 

 

****

* * *

 **God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.**  
 **Laurence Sterne (Irish Novelist, 1713-1768)**

Tim stirred in his sleep, something bothering him enough to wake him. He'd always been a light sleeper, but his instincts had gotten better with time served at NCIS. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He saw the door left slightly ajar -- he'd closed it. Pursing his lips in concentration, he grabbed his Sig and stepped toward the stairs. 

"Boss? Tony? Are you okay?" He looked up the stairs, and paused, listening for any sounds to clue him into what the situation was. He wasn't sure he wanted to go up there unless he really had to. Tony usually slept in the guest room, but he figured if he was catching all the little looks right, they may have both slept in there. He stepped on the creaky step, hoping to alert them. "Boss," he repeated himself as he continued up the stairs. "Boss?" His voice broke on the word, worry increasing as he went. 

Something smelled a little weird, so he pushed forward, but covered his nose. There seemed to be a fog in the hall, starting to float up from the master bedroom. Tim swore and pulled out his cell phone. "Ducky, it's McGee." 

"Ah, yes. Good morning, Timothy. Am I to take it that you are on call and need my assistance at a crime scene?" Ducky apparently hadn't been kept in the lop as much as he normally liked. 

"Not exactly, Ducky. Look, this ... this is kind of embarrassing. I crashed on the couch at Gibbs' last night, and I think the guy got in and there's gas coming out of the master bedroom, and I think both of them are in there, and I don't want to call a team because of the ... " 

Luckily, Ducky understood his Abby-like ramble. "I quite understand, Timothy. Describe to me the nature of the gas." 

"I can see it. And smell it a little, I think. I covered my nose when I thought I could smell it, to try to prevent it getting in as much." 

"Indeed. What color is it?" 

"Smoky white." Tim replied. 

"I believe I know what kind it is. It is an experimental drug intended to calm patients, but used in high enough quantities, it could be fatal." Ducky's voice sounded worried. "I shall be there shortly, Timothy. Find something with which to cover your face, and work on ventilating the room. I am aware that this is a delicate situation, but Anthony's life may be at stake, considering his pulmonary issues." 

"Gotcha, Ducky." Tim hung up as abruptly as his boss, then took his nightshirt off, and tied it around his face to prevent more of the gas getting in. He opened up the master bedroom then tried to open the windows, studiously avoiding looking at the two men in the bed. It seemed like only moments later that Ducky was stepping up behind him, looking down where he would not. 

"Oh, my. I see what you mean. A very recent development, I am sure." He gestured to the two men intimately tangled together. 

"I think so, Duck. Is there a way we can get them to the hospital without ..." 

"I may have a way, yes," Ducky replied, pulling out his cell phone. "Mariana? I am so sorry to call you at this time of morning. I know Melanie and Jason do keep you busy..." He paused, and smiled. "Thank you, my dear. I would hate to think I was taking advantage of you..." He walked out of the room, leaving Tim to look down at his boss clinging tightly to his coworker. 

"What an utter mess." Tim stepped out of the room, down the hallway, and sat down on the stairs. 

 

****

* * *

 **Science is for those who learn, poetry is for those who know.**  
 **Joseph Roux (French clergyman, 1834-1905)**  
Gibbs stirred, hoping to see his lover in his arms. However, when he reached out, he didn't feel anything but cold bars and ... _what the hell_? He tried to move, but his movements were sluggish. "Ton..." He started to call for Tony. 

"Shh, Jethro. Do not fret. Anthony will be fine in due time, as will you. Extra movement will hinder recovery at this juncture, so please relax. I shall tell you everything you wish to know." 

"Happ...? Jethro started, trying to get his eyes to focus. 

"You were not as discreet as you ought to have been, Jethro. You ought to have locked your door. It is a good thing that Timothy decided to take a kip on your couch. If he had not, there is no telling what might have happened." 

"-Gee?" Jethro's cheeks reddened, or he thought they should with the wash of embarrassment that flowed through him. 

"Oh, yes. And you should be relieved that it was he who found you, or it might have gone much more badly. He was discreet: he called me, and I called an unrelated friend. We managed to clean you up and bring you in ourselves." 

"Thank..." Gibbs tried to smile, but his face wouldn't work right. The words were coming out slowly and sluggishly, and he couldn't push past the lassitude. 

"It is of no matter. You may show your appreciation by locking your door or staying at your lover's place by night when you wish to engage in such behavior." 

Gibbs grunted. It was something worth considering. "Happen?" He repeated. Ducky still had not told him how he'd gotten here.

"Someone -- we may assume it was Mister Decker by the lack of evidence and the chemical used -- decided to attempt to end your life. He released an experimental drug via aerosol into your room." 

"Tony?" He wanted to know if Tony was going to be okay.. 

"He is no worse for wear. Apparently, this bypassed his pulmonary system entirely." 

Gibbs let out a gusty sigh of relief.

"My thoughts exactly. Now. If you please, get a little more rest, and the next time you wake, perhaps you and Anthony shall share a room." 

"Tell..." He struggled, trying to get the words out. "Tony. Love." 

The old doctor's cheeks flushed slightly. "Ah. I see. It is like that, then. I shall relay your message. It may put him at ease. Rest, Jethro." And Ducky stood, lowered the lights in the room, and walked out, snicking the door shut quietly. Gibbs fought the exhaustion for a couple minutes, then realized there really wasn't a reason to do so. He gave in, and fell back to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**What one has not experienced, one will never understand in print.**   
**Isadora Duncan (American dancer, 1877-1927)**

Vern looked down at his phone, read the information, and sighed. He had failed, and it was over. He knew it was a long shot, especially when they had been in the other room, but he knew he needed to try. He pulled an envelope out of his desk drawer, set it on the top right near where his laptop was, and then sat in the chair, waiting. It wouldn't be long. 

 

****

* * *

 **I daresay one profits more by the mistakes one makes off one's own bat than by doing the right thing on somebody's else advice.**  
 **W. Somerset Maugham - English dramatist & novelist (1874 - 1965), 'Of Human Bondage', 1915 **

Leon Vance sat up in his office looking at the report of the most recent incident incredulously. He read through Agent McGee's report, and frowned. Something didn't sit right. He decided to call on the Medical Examiner to check a few things for himself. "Cynthia," he called through his intercom. "Please have Doctor Mallard join me ASAP. Not an emergency, just need some clarification on a case." 

"Yes, Director." Cynthia was probably already dialing the man's extension. He knew that the case-load was fairly light today, so it didn't surprise him when the elderly man stepped up into his office not ten minutes later. 

"Director." His ME nodded his greeting. "You asked for clarification on something?" 

"Indeed I did, Doctor Mallard. Can you tell me why I'm sitting here staring at McGee's report about the incident with the gas, and I'm missing something huge. I can't put my finger on it, but he's either lyin' through his teeth, or you are. Or the forensic team that showed up messed up big time, and I need to send four agents back to FLETC for a remedial course." 

When the normally-verbose doctor didn't respond for a few moments, Leon looked up, eyebrow arched in surprise. "Oh, hell," he breathed, trying to decipher the look on the man's face. He looked down at the evidence and what the kid was so carefully skirting around, and groaned, running his hands over his face. "How long?" 

"I believe it is very new. I would have noticed any ..." For a medical doctor, Mallard seemed to be rather unsure of how to say what he needed. 

"... Evidence of the development..." he suggested, reaching for a toothpick. 

"Precisely. I would have noted it before. Both are ... experienced in such matters, Director, so it is not the first time, for each separately, but together, it is a very new thing." 

Leon sighed. "If DiNozzo were a new recruit, or as green as McGee still is at times, I'd have to deal with it, because Gibbs is his supervisor." 

"But the fact that Anthony has the time in and has turned down several promotions to lead his team even before this development occurred gives you some leeway?" 

"Yeah. Or that's how I'm interpreting the policy. As long as they don't start checkin' each other for missing tonsils in the bullpen or something. What a mess." Leon looked down. 

To his consternation, the old ME started to chuckle. "Director, I assure you, both gentlemen are very discreet. Before today, you would not have guessed that either would be amenable to such a relationship, would you?" 

"Got a point there, Doctor. Alright." He slapped his hands on his desk, gently, rising to his feet. "I think I'll go talk to Gibbs and explain this, and he can tell DiNozzo. Kid'll take it wrong coming from me." 

"Wise choice, Director. Thank you." 

"I hope I'm not making a mistake." Leon grabbed his suit jacket, his cell and his gun. 

"You are not. Have a pleasant afternoon." Mallard rose, and made his way out of the office. 

"You too," Leon replied, following him down. He sighed, letting his mind wander through how this would affect work output, how to handle any PR that needed done, and all the other little problems that could potentially crop up from the situation. He started his drive to the hospital on near-autopilot. 

****

* * *

 **I can't change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination.**  
 **Jimmy Dean (American actor, 1928-)**

Everything was in order. He had arranged everything to perfection. He sat in the back seat of the taxi, gripping his valise to himself. There was no reason to worry, but something was niggling at him. He shook his head. The driver looked back at him, and he waved off the concern. "It's nothing." 

"If you say so, sir," The cabbie knew better than to press. Vern sat back in his seat, pushing the feeling to the back of his mind. He was bound and determined to enjoy his well-earned vacation. The cabbie pulled up to the airport and he stepped out, handing the man a generous fare. "Thank you, sir," Vern ignored the man as he grabbed his valise and stepped inside the airport. He moved to check in, and then his countenance fell. 

"Vern." Leon Vance stood there, arms across his chest. "I was prepared to let you go until last night. Bothering them wasn't too much of an annoyance. But the gas crossed a line. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'm prepared to let you walk under your own power out of the building, talking to me like we're old friends. I know why you did it. I understand it. Can't let it slide, though. Not when you put my two best men in the hospital for several long weeks." 

"And the hard way?" Vern knew he'd take the easier route, but he was interested to hear what the man has in mind. 

"Balboa, and McGee -- the geek -- are placed strategically to ... ensure your cooperation." He looked down, and sure enough, there was a flashing red light on his chest. It was nearer his shoulder than his heart. They intended to wound him, but if he moved... "I know you're smart enough to get this, Decker. So, what'll it be?" 

"I'll come with you." Vern held his valise out. It was his money and a change or two of clothes, but he knew procedure. 

"Good deal." Vance nodded, and the red light disappeared. 

"Just one question: how'd you figure it out?" 

"After we got your handwriting sample from Langley, it wasn't too hard. Figuring out what you'd do next was a combination of Gibbs and David. She's done this a time or two herself, after all." Vern could have slapped himself in the forehead, but he walked calmly right out of the airport, flanked soon enough by the two armed men.


	14. Chapter 14

**There are many truths of which the full meaning cannot be realized until personal experience has brought it home.**   
**John Stuart Mill (English philosopher, 1806-1873)**

Tony woke up, hoping to recreate the night they'd had, except maybe in reverse. Instead, he gazed blearily at hospital lights and felt the annoying presence of an O2 mask. Gibbs was beside his bed, sipping his coffee and giving him worried glances. Finally, though, he noticed Tony's eyes opened. 

"Hey, Tony." Jethro spoke softly. "Good to see you awake. Weren't sure you'd wake up yet. They wanted to be sure the gas didn't affect your lungs..." Hence the presence of the mask, Tony inferred. 

Tony gestured to it, trying to make a noise, but coughing a little just from the dryness of the processed air. 

"Yeah, as soon as the doctor checks you out, you can probably take that damn thing off. Listen," Gibbs started to speak, probably to apologize for something, and Tony shook his head, holding up six fingers. Gibbs chuckled, and ran his hands through the younger man's hair. 

Tony tilted his head, wondering what the hell had happened to them. 

"Decker decided to come back into the house, snuck past a sleeping McGee on the couch, and bombed us with some sort of experimental chemical designed to calm patients down. It's not anesthetic, I don't think, but if you dose it wrong, it can make your nerves go ..." Gibbs wobbled his hand out in front of him. "Dunno what would've happened if McGee hadn't aired out the room for us." 

Tony's eyes widened. His mind whirled. 

"Yeah." Gibbs drawled out the word. "So, needless to say, between him, Duck and Vance, our little secret's not so secret anymore. If you wanna bail, I wouldn't..." 

Tony narrowed his eyes, beckoned Gibbs closer with one finger, and then, when Gibbs was in reach, he slapped him on the back of the head. 

"Hey!" The objection was mostly for show. "Alright. Gotcha. Gibbs leaned down to kiss Tony on the forehead. "Lemme go find your doc, so you can get that thing off your face." 

"There you are, Mister Gibbs. I wondered where you had gone." Tony heard another voice. 

"Checked myself out. Needed to be in here. Figured I could sit and rest just as easily in here instead of stressin' about what was going on with my Senior Agent." Gibbs groused to the doctor. 

"Uh, alright." The doctor wasn't sure about that, but as Gibbs was close enough to monitor, he let it slide. "He's awake, then?" 

"Yup." Gibbs nodded, and opened the door. "Gonna go get a coffee." 

Tony couldn't help but chuckle at that. 

"Mister DiNozzo, I'm your doctor, Doctor Borlin, and let's see how you're doing, and maybe get that mask off your face...." 

 

****

* * *

 **Man learns through experience, and the spiritual path is full of different kinds of experiences. He will encounter many difficulties and obstacles, and they are the very experiences he needs to encourage and complete the cleansing process.**  
 **Sai Baba (Indian Leader, 1838-1918)**

Gibbs knew it wouldn't do any good for the case, but he had to do this for himself. He settled himself down at the table, then waited for them to bring Vernon Decker in. It wasn't too long after he seated himself that the door opened again and two uniformed men brought the former CIA agent into the room. He set his palms flat on the table, gazed directly at Decker, and just waited. 

"That particular tactic has never worked on me, Agent Gibbs. How about I cut to the chase, so that I can return to my novel." The older man snorted in contempt at Gibbs, and Gibbs tilted his head in acquiescence. "Billy was my life. I'm certain you know what that's like." 

Gibbs gave a quick nod. "Yeah." He could understand the sentiment; after all, he'd killed Hernandez for the same reason. 

"I am aware that you didn't kill Billy. However, it was your ineptitude, yours and Jennifer's, that let his killer go free in the first place. I have a feeling you haven't seen the last of the repercussions from that mistake." 

"So you tried to kill me?" Gibbs was genuinely curious. He was a little surprised the man was speaking to him at all. 

"It was not my intention at first. I was merely wanting to give you a taste of what it'd be like if your team stopped trusting you." Decker leaned back in his chair. "However, they kept their trust even through some difficult situations. So, I decided that they didn't need you. The addition of your second was a bonus. How is he, by the way?" 

"DiNozzo's fine." Gibbs shrugged. "Took him a couple days longer to wake up, but his body's never been as strong since the Pneumonic Plague." 

"I read that. I thought perhaps the report writers had gotten it wrong." Vernon sounded interested, but that was all Gibbs was willing to say about it. 

"Nope." Gibbs cut off that line of questioning and returned to the subject at hand. "Why?" 

"I was headed out, Gibbs. I am an old man, and have lived a lot of life in my years. You would have been a loose end." Vernon struggled to his feet, moving to tap on the door. The guard let him out, escorting him back to his cell. 

Gibbs merely sat there looking after him, lips pursed. 

 

****

* * *

 **A certain amount of opposition is a great help to a man. Kites rise against, not with, the wind.**  
 **Lewis Mumford**

Abby bopped into the bullpen feeling happy to be home. "Bossman!" She moved to give her silver-haired fox a hug. 

"Welcome back, Abbs. How was California?" Gibbs stood to greet her, hugging her and giving her a kiss on the temple. After a couple seconds, they parted. 

"California was fine, Gibbs. You should have seen my little niece. She's a spitfire. She's three now, Gibbs. Ohhh, I'll have to show you the pictures." She thought about going down to her lab to grab them, but she wanted to see how her boss was first. "Everything a-okay here?" 

"Yeah, DiNozzo and I spent some time in the hospital after the dirtbag decided to gas us, but we're alright." Gibbs looked at her, and Abby could see something in his eyes she hadn't seen before. It ... puzzled her. _Hmmm. A mystery._

"Really? I leave for a week and you end up in the hospital." She slugged him in the arm. "Not good, Gibbs. You're sure you're okay? And Tony-Boy's okay?" 

"Ow, Abbs!" Gibbs protested. "Yeah, s'what I said, isn't it?" He replied, moving to sit down again. "Down buggin' Duck. You can go see him yourself." 

"Oooh. I just might." Abby grinned. "So, anything else exciting happen while I was gone?" She watched his face for a moment. _Something_ crossed it, but she wasn't sure what it was. Gibbs paused for just a moment before replying. 

"Not much to write home about, nope." Gibbs grinned. "You? Heard about your capture in New Mexico. Good work, Abbs." He looked down at the paperwork on his desk, shuffling through it, probably looking for a specific report. 

"That wasn't me, Gibbs. That was all Zee." Abby grinned, too, her expression showing the pride she had in her lover. "And other than that, well, not somethin' to write home about... yet." 

Gibbs looked up at her tone, and tilted his head. "Yeah?" 

Abby blushed. "Yeah." 

"Good." Abby was a little confused by that. 

"What about Rule 12?" 

Gibbs shrugged. "Try not to be a hypocrite. Don't always succeed, but ..." He let his voice trail off, knowing how much he was revealing. 

"Ohhh, Gibbs, now I really have to go downstairs." She laughed. 

"Don't pick on him too much. He's still nervous." Gibbs glared at her for a moment before his expression softened. 

"Yes, Sir!" Abby saluted him. 

"Don't call me sir!" 

"Yes, Ma'am!" With both of them chuckling, Abby headed downstairs to get the scoop from one of her best friends.


End file.
